


By These Broken Wings, Shall We Be Carried

by Jadzibelle



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Aether-Bonded Trio, Alternate Finale, Alternate New Barn, Content Warning: Major Character Death (Temporary), Content Warning: Minor Descriptions of Violence, Fix-it fic, Happy Ending, Multi, Secondary Character: Agent Howard, Secondary Character: Gloria Verrano, Secondary Character: Station!Laverne, Secondary Character: The Barn, Secondary Character: Vickie Dutton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6923680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzibelle/pseuds/Jadzibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Vince never becomes the controller of the barn. Instead, Nathan is the one to speak with Agent Howard and becomes the controller when he realizes that it will link him to Audrey forever. Instead of killing Duke, Nathan and Audrey realize that the 500 years worth of aether inside of him is more than enough to power the barn and the three of them build a new barn as they have done everything else, together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By These Broken Wings, Shall We Be Carried

**Author's Note:**

  * For [callmecassandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmecassandra/gifts).



“Why, exactly, do you think I’m interested in talking to you?”

Agent Howard stood, arms folded across his chest, hip braced against the desk, very much like it was _his_ office and Nathan was the interloper. It reminded him for a dizzying moment of his father, and Nathan squared his shoulders out of habit.

“Because we don’t exactly have a lot of choices, right now,” Nathan said, keeping his voice level and toneless, his usual defense against that particular shade of _you aren’t worth my time_. It was almost- _comforting_ , a note of familiarity that cut through some of the desperate, buzzing _fear_ that had become the backdrop of every moment since Duke had vanished with Audrey.

He couldn’t solve that problem right now. He needed to focus on what he _could_ do.

It was the only way he could save either of them.

“What do you want?” Howard asked, short, and Nathan resisted the impulse to say something ridiculous, ignored the pang at the droll tone in his thoughts suggesting _a first class ticket to anywhere else_ that sounded entirely too much like Duke.

Duke wasn’t Duke anymore, sure as hell wasn’t there to crack wise and pull attention to give Nathan room to breathe, and that was a play in two parts, he couldn’t hold up both sides on his own. 

“You said that trying to create the new Barn with the corroded Core, it damaged you,” Nathan said, the words flat. “Need to know how badly.”

“Badly enough,” Howard said, with a grimace. “Critical elements of my program have been destroyed.”

“What’s that mean, in terms of us getting this done?” Nathan pressed, because from where he was standing, they were teetering on the fine edge of _losing_ , and he needed to know _exactly_ what the balance was.

“The Core is damaged, Audrey has been taken- this is _hardly_ ‘getting done’,” Howard bit out.

“I will get Audrey back,” Nathan snapped, ignoring the sharp swell of _panic_ at the reminder. “I will get Audrey back, and she will figure out some way to repair the Core, and I need to know if we’ll be able to _finish this_ when she does, or if we’ve got more problems to solve. So _tell me_ , what does that _mean_.”

“It means that I will require... replacement, before the Barn can be completed,” Howard said, sounding reluctant. “Once the aether core is repaired, you'll have all the materials you need, but I can't operate it. Not anymore.”

“The hell do you mean, _replacement_ ,” Nathan demanded, hearing the quickening of his pulse in his ears. “There’s another crystal somewhere?”

“No.” Howard shifted, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “There is nothing wrong with the crystal. The problem is with _me_.”

“You said, critical elements of your program- can that, can we just fix it? You?” Nathan asked, and Howard lifted an eyebrow, radiating cool disdain.

“I'm not just a program you can simply- rewrite and reboot. I was once a man.”

“...What?” Of all the things Nathan had expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them; he had no idea how to respond, how to make sense of that. When he’d seen Howard just- shatter, under the impact of his bullets, he’d assumed there was nothing human about him, an assumption that until now Howard had done nothing to dispel. Howard looked bleakly amused, for a moment, before his expression shifted, a trace of something else, something real, showing for just an instant.

“By your calendar, it was several centuries ago. I lived in the same world as Charlotte, as Mara, and her father...” Howard sounded distant, almost distracted as he trailed off, but his attention went sharp again, his voice taking on a razor edge. “After Mara created the Troubles, I was the one that captured her. Brought her to justice."

“And, what, you helped build the Barn? To trap her?” Nathan heard his voice shake, the anger in it impossible to miss- whatever he’d said in the Void, whatever he’d intuited about the ultimate goal of the Barn, it had still been a particularly cruel system. One that had ultimately _failed_. 

“By design, it required a dedicated warden, one that deeply felt the need for her punishment.” Howard kept his voice level, apparently unimpressed by Nathan’s disapproval. “When I tracked Mara here, I saw what she had done to those people.” He paused, and his expression went distant again, lost focus, and when he continued, there was a new edge in his voice. “There was a, a young boy. The Trouble Mara gave him was... intolerable. His life, unlivable. I had to end his suffering, I had to-” Howard broke off, as if the words had cost him something, and Nathan tried not to let himself dwell on how much that sounded like exactly the sort of rhetoric the Rev’s people had used, the sort of rhetoric Simon had used.

Tried not to let himself dwell on just where pushing that rhetoric had led.

“...I couldn't let that happen to my family,” Howard continued, after a moment, and Nathan blinked, startled out of his thoughts.

“You have a family?” A spark of surprise flared up, along with a faint, unwelcome trace of guilt; he hadn’t even considered that Howard might’ve had people who cared for him, who would miss him, would wonder what had become of him.

“As I said, that was centuries ago,” Howard said, with a level shrug. “The importance of what I was doing was clear, because it was personal. But after what happened in the police station, after I was compromised, I-- I can't remember them, anymore. And without that... personal connection, without the sense of purpose that protecting them provided...”

“You can’t operate the new Barn,” Nathan finished, dread sweeping through him. Without the crystal, without Howard to control it- they had nothing.

The Core was broken, the crystal didn’t _work_ , Audrey was _gone_ , Duke was- had been _turned_ , somehow... They had _nothing_.

“Correct,” Howard said. “Which is, as I said, why I require replacement.”

“Replacement _how_?” Nathan asked, forcing himself to _focus_ , because he couldn’t afford to think like that. He couldn’t afford to let himself doubt. He’d find Audrey, get her back safely. They could get through to Duke, break Croatoan’s control _somehow_. Audrey would figure out a way to repair the Core. So _he_ would figure out how to repair the crystal.

They could still do this. They had to.

“All the facility and... knowledge, necessary to operate a new construct are contained within that controller crystal. What was done to me, could potentially be done to another. But there are... complications.” Howard looked _uneasy_ , unsure, but Nathan leaned forward, pressed anyway.

“What complications?”

“I can’t be _sure_ it will work with someone from this world. And even if it does... The process requires- sacrifice.”

“What kind of sacrifice?” Nathan asked, instantly wary. He’d seen, after all, just what kind of _sacrifice_ these people had believed was acceptable.

“Whoever becomes the next controller, whoever... takes my place, this becomes their reality. To put it simply, they have to die.” Howard drummed his fingers on the surface of the desk behind him, a cold sort of half-smile showing for an instant. “And they will be bound to the crystal, and their task, for the rest of their existence.”

“...But they’d be like you? Part of the crystal, part of the new Barn?” Nathan couldn’t feel the leap of his pulse, but he heard it, echoing in his ears. _For the rest of their existence_. Howard had been linked to the crystal for centuries, he’d said. Had been linked to _Audrey_ \- to _Mara_ , anyway- for all that time.

“They would be like me, yes. A projection, a- construct. Not really alive, but not entirely gone. And they would be linked to the Barn, to their task. Their... purpose. It isn’t a... _comfortable_ existence. They would have to be entirely committed- my dedication was paramount.”

“But you can do it. You know how to, to change someone, to take your place,” Nathan pressed. “And it’s, it’s _necessary_ , we can’t finish the Barn without the crystal? Without someone to act as the controller?”

“ _Possibly_ ,” Howard said. “I can’t guarantee that the process will work, the biology of people from this world might be too different. It’s a _risk_.”

“But a necessary risk,” Nathan repeated, and Howard’s lips drew to a thin line.

“...Yes,” he admitted, after a moment. “It’s a necessary risk. The Barn won’t function without a controller.”

“I’ll do it.” Nathan didn’t have to think about it, didn’t have a moment’s doubt. If someone was going to be linked to the Barn, was going to be linked to _Audrey_ , it was going to be him.

“Are you really prepared to give up any hope of a normal life?” Howard asked, voice flat. “Any hope of a family, of a future? This will be all that you are, all that you will ever be. You have to be prepared-”

“I’ll do it,” Nathan repeated, the words sharp and forceful. “You said you needed a _personal connection_ , needed a... _purpose_. Been caught in this my whole life, _everyone_ I care about is in this up to their necks. Protecting this town, helping Audrey-- this _is_ my purpose, only damn one I’ve ever had. If I can help Audrey to save this town, to _really_ solve all of this- it can’t be anyone else.” If they did this, if they pulled this off, it saved the whole town. It saved _Audrey_ , made sure she didn’t have to go away again- it got Duke out from under Croatoan’s thumb, pulled the poison back out of him. His people would be _safe_.

Nathan was more than willing to die for that.

And he’d be with Audrey, would be able to _stay_ with Audrey. She wouldn’t have to watch him age, wouldn’t be left alone.

They could make a future, together. Even if it wasn’t... exactly what they’d hoped for.

“You won’t be entirely you, you know. It’s more complicated than that.” Howard’s voice was still flat, still carefully toneless.

“I’ll take that chance,” Nathan said, clenching his jaw and curling his hands into fists. Audrey had held on to herself, through the Barn and Lexie and Mara and whatever Charlotte had done to put Audrey and Mara back together. She’d stayed _Audrey_ , even when it shouldn’t have been possible. Nathan had to believe he could do the same.

He had to try. It couldn’t be anyone else.

“There are... limitations. The crystal won’t function indefinitely, not without a power source. If you do this, and Audrey can’t find a way to repair the Core, you _will_ cease to be. Not immediately, but... There isn’t much left. Not after the Barn was destroyed, not after trying and failing to create another. Changing you will further deplete what was stored. You won’t have long.”

“Audrey will fix the Core,” Nathan said, the words certain. Audrey would figure it out; she always did. 

And it wouldn’t be the first time he’d bet his life on Audrey Parker.

“Then I suppose it’s settled. Are you ready?” Howard straightened up, and Nathan blinked, because that wasn’t- exactly what he’d expected.

“I-”

The door to the office opened, and Nathan turned quickly; Gloria tilted her head demandingly from the doorway, and Nathan nodded once. Gloria left, and closed the door behind her, and Nathan turned back to Howard.

“Not yet. Soon as we get Audrey back. Til then, just- save your energy. Don’t say anything ‘bout this to anyone, don’t need any complications.” It would be better to wait, just in case it didn’t work. He needed to do as much as he could, before he took that chance, needed to know there’d be a plan in place, if it failed.

“Very well.” Howard flickered, and vanished, and Nathan carefully picked up the crystal off of the desk. The lights flickered reprovingly, and Nathan glanced at the camera in the corner, and shook his head.

“It’s the only way,” he said. “Worth the risk, we have to try something.”

The lights flickered again, twice, a clear disagreement, but the lens on the camera whirred, refocusing, and a single light panel over the couch began to flash.

“Good idea. Thanks, Laverne.” Nathan climbed awkwardly onto the couch, and pushed the panel up, tucking the crystal out of sight in the ceiling before settling the panel back in place. “Anything happens, make sure Audrey finds it, okay?”

The lights flashed once, and then subsided, and Nathan stepped down off of the couch, squared his shoulders, and headed out of the office.

He had work to do; he needed to find Audrey, whatever it took.

***

The taste of blood lingered, choking and heavy. Nathan _ached_ in a way he couldn’t quantify, and his limbs felt heavy, sluggish.

Failure was a heavy burden to bear.

He had to have missed something, there _had_ to be something else he could use, some other way he could reach Duke. He’d _seen him_ , he knew he had- _his_ Duke was still in there, somewhere. Nathan just- he needed to try again.

He had to believe that Duke could fight his way free.

He just- he should have been able to reach him, should have been able to _help him_.

And for all that, they’d gotten _nothing_ , were-

“Nathan!”

He didn’t have time to react before Audrey had slammed into his side, arms going around him in a fierce grip, and he moved automatically to catch her, to wrap his arms around her in turn, had his hands fisted in her jacket before his mind had caught up with her presence.

“ _Parker_?” he demanded, trying to detangle his fingers from her coat so that he could find skin, so that he could _feel her_ , be absolutely sure it was really her, and Audrey just pushed closer, burrowing in against his chest. “Parker, how-”

“He let me leave,” Audrey said, voice muffled. “He- he just let me leave, said- he was going to _show me_ , wanted... He wants me to cooperate, I think he’s trying to- to prove something, just-”

“Are you okay? Parker, are you okay, did he hurt you, are-”

“No. No, I- well, yes, but, no, I’m okay, I’m okay, Nathan.” Nathan finally got a hand loose, curled it around the back of her neck, felt warm skin and silky hair and she was _real_ , she was _there_.

She was _there_.

“It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay, Parker,” he said, curling in around her, holding her as close as he could. He pressed his nose into her hair, pressed a kiss against the top of her head- he thought he might be shaking, or maybe she was, or maybe both of them. Wasn’t sure which. Wasn’t sure it mattered.

She was _there_ , she was okay. She was okay, and they could figure this out.

“What about you? Nathan, he said- what about you, are you hurt? Did Duke hurt you?”

“No,” Nathan said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. _Duke_ hadn’t hurt him. And the damage Croatoan had inflicted wouldn’t matter much longer. “C’mon, let’s get back to the station, we need to get to work. More to do than we thought.”

“What do you mean?” Audrey pulled back, wriggled loose enough to look up at him, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes, stress and exhaustion and fear all written on her skin, and they couldn’t keep this up much longer. None of them could keep this up much longer.

“Not just the Core we have to fix. Got a plan, though, for the crystal. Talk once we’re inside, just- c’mon.”

“...Right.” Audrey drew herself up, forced a visible display of composure as she stepped away. “I think I know how to fix the Core, we’ll. We’ll talk about that, too.”

“Knew you’d come up with something,” Nathan said, relief and pride and no little awe settling over him.

Awe, and _hope_. He had Audrey back; Audrey had a plan to fix the Core. They could do this. They could end all of this. Together.

***

“Are you ready?” Howard asked, and Audrey squeezed Nathan’s hand, _hard_ , nails biting into the skin- she was _pale_ , lines carved deep around her mouth and eyes dark with worry, but she didn’t say anything more. They’d spent enough time on debate as it was.

“Yes.” Nathan worked his hand free of Audrey’s, brushed his thumb along the back of her knuckles, gentle and soft. “It’s going to be okay, Parker. This’ll work.” He thought he should probably be nervous, should probably be _scared_ , but all he felt was _certain_. 

This was the right thing to do. They were meant to do this together. They were a _team_ -

-his vision blurred, for just a moment, and he closed his eyes, forced the emotions down. This’d solve that problem, too, and they could work on fixing things _after_.

There’d be an _after_ , they did this right. There’d be time to fix things. Once Croatoan was _gone_ , once the Troubles were gone, they could fix everything else.

“It’d better. You can’t leave me now, Nathan, I don’t want to do this without you.” Audrey reached up, pulled him down to rest his forehead against hers, and Nathan slid his arms around her, held her close and felt the warmth of her.

“It’ll work. Not leaving you, Parker.” He tilted her chin back, met her eyes and gave her a careful smile, traced his thumb over her cheek. “Not now, not ever.”

“That a promise?” she asked, and her voice shook.

“That’s a promise,” he said, and Audrey nodded, squared her shoulders and locked her jaw and pulled back.

“Okay. Let’s get this done,” she said, steel in her voice and the set of her spine. “Vickie will be here in a few minutes, we should be ready when she is.”

Nathan turned back to Howard, who was watching them with arms crossed, expression blank. He wondered, suddenly, if the other man was afraid; wondered if _fear_ was something he could still feel. If it would be something Nathan would still feel, when this was done.

“What do I need to do?” he asked, and Howard picked the crystal up off of the desk, held it out balanced on the palm of his hand.

“Concentrate on your purpose,” Howard instructed, voice level. “See it in your mind’s eye, _know it_ in your heart.”

Nathan cut a glance at Audrey, weary and worn down and still standing, still _trying_. Thought of Duke, who’d come back because Nathan had asked him to, no matter how scared he’d been of where that might end. His people, so close to lost, and so close to being saved.

He knew his purpose.

He turned his attention back to Howard, and Howard looked him over, considering.

“Take the crystal,” Howard said, and Audrey’s hands clenched at her side- Nathan could hear her breath catch, knew how much she wanted to reach out and stop him.

She didn’t.

Nathan reached out, instead, moved to take the crystal out of Howard’s palm, and Howard closed his hand around Nathan’s, the crystal caught in their shared grip.

The world _blazed_ , noise in his ears and light in his eyes and _heat_ , fire, racing along his skin, and he could smell ozone, could taste the bright tang of copper, intense and overwhelming and _too much_. He couldn’t orient, couldn’t figure out what was _up_ and what was _down_ , couldn’t _process_.

_New parameters accepted_.

The cold voice was barely on the edge of familiar, and the world went _quiet_ , the blaze settling down to something less utterly overwhelming, and Nathan blinked, brought his hands up to rub fiercely at his stinging eyes. Felt it, the texture of skin and the flex of pressure, and dropped his hands, looked around warily.

Everything was blank, and white, and _familiar_. Hallways stretched off in all directions, interrupted by doorways; the space _echoed_ , the light reflecting strangely off the blank walls.

_Awaiting instructions_.

“What instructions?” Nathan asked, glancing around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

_Awaiting instructions_.

It was clipped, cool and distant, but he thought it sounded a little like Charlotte. Which he supposed probably made some kind of sense, if this was- if it’d worked, and he was in the crystal, now.

It wasn’t quite what he’d expected.

Not that he’d really had any idea of what to expect.

“Howard?” he called, taking a few cautious steps down one of the halls. Silence was his only answer, and he turned back, looked around, tried to find _anything_ by which he could orient himself. Anything that looked _different_ , anything that would tell him where he was supposed to go-

-one of the doorways seemed to _flicker_ , seemed to brighten in some imperceptible way. Nathan turned toward it, because at least it was _something_ , reached out a hand to touch the frame. A jumbled rush of image and sensation and _knowing_ rolled over him, making his stomach lurch, but he _understood_ \- this doorway was _his_ , was... _home_. Represented, somehow, the collection of memory and thought and energy that was _him_.

He looked up the hallway, at the doors stretching out on either side, branching off into more hallways with more doors, and shivered.

“What- who are they?” he asked, wondering if the voice would answer. The room seemed to _shift_ , the solid and _familiar_ energy of his doorway fading back as other doorways rushed forward to skip past his touch; his stomach didn’t so much lurch as _drop_ , his head spinning. Every touch brought a new wave of _information_ , some of it visual and some of it auditory and some of it purely felt, faces and voices and the briefest flicker of personality, moving by so quickly he didn’t have time to process any of it before it was slipping away again. He was _reeling_ , felt something in his thoughts start to _slip_ under the onslaught, and he jerked back, folded in on himself as much as he could.

“Stop!” he snapped, hands over his ears to try and block out the voices- 

-and suddenly, it did, the hallway as still and silent as it had been when he arrived. Cautiously, very cautiously, he unfolded; he’d wound up on his knees, though he didn’t remember falling, and he pushed himself back to his feet, the texture of the floor under his hand and the feel of his clothes dragging along his skin an unsettling distraction from trying to find his balance.

He drew in a few slow breaths through his nose, trying to let his stomach settle, before he cautiously approached the nearest doorway. Warily, he reached out and set his hand on the frame; the welter of information was still sudden, but not quite so _intense_.

Images- faces and places and objects, most of them unfamiliar- and voices, laughter and shouting, a sense of _determination_ and _kindness_ and _responsibility_. Nathan jerked his hand back as a name echoed through his thoughts.

_Lucy Ripley_.

The original, he knew, the woman whose address he’d tracked down for Audrey. The woman whose memories had formed the Lucy who had been in Haven when he was a child.

Before he’d even finished the thought, the wall rippled, and there was a different doorway in front of him- he didn’t know how he knew it was different, there was nothing at all to distinguish one from another, but he was completely sure, nonetheless. Very slowly, he reached out again, braced this time, and let the next rush come.

The first play of images was the same, but they very quickly changed to faces and places and things he _knew_. His father, Vince and Dave, the station and the Herald and the beach and a restaurant that had closed down when he was a teenager- and Duke, small and sullen, _himself_ , just as small.

_James_. The sight jerked Nathan out of the flow of information, his hands shaking as he pulled away from the doorway and tried to steady. Still Lucy, then, but the imprint, the woman who had helped Haven, the one who had given her life in the Barn. Both of them, both versions, stored one beside the other-

-Nathan turned away, but there was nowhere to look that wasn’t more doorways. More lives, more experiences, filed away like so many old home movies.

Like he was.

The panic was sudden, wrapped around his chest like a vice and left him struggling to breathe; the thought occurred, distant and clinical, that he probably wasn’t actually breathing, that it was probably just perception and habit, but that did nothing to ease the tightness of his throat or the terrible _squeeze_ around his lungs.

He needed to get out. Needed- there had to be a way, an exit, he had to-

The world shifted around him again, and a different doorway, _distinct_ from the others, framed in heavy wood and weathered in a way that looked completely out of place, formed in front of him. He remembered it, _recognized_ it, the door that had led out of the Barn. The door that led to _outside_ , and he scrambled forward, limbs awkward and uncooperative, slammed against it.

It didn’t move.

“Let me _out_ ,” he demanded, slamming his fists against it once more. There was a moment of stillness, and Nathan could feel _reproval_ echo through the space, but the door slowly opened, empty bright white beyond, and Nathan nearly tripped over himself trying to step through.

His shoes squeaked on the tiles of his office floor, the familiar room replacing the view of _so much nothing_ , and Audrey’s hands were on his arms, catching him, _steadying_ him as he dragged in air in ragged breaths.

“Nathan! Nathan, what- what happened, are you okay? Did it work?” Audrey moved so that she was in front of him, and he met her eyes, not fully understanding the question- she looked worried, a furrow between her brows, expression pinched and drawn, but she also looked _confused_ , uncertain.

“What?” he asked, because it had to have worked, he’d been _gone_ , had been somewhere else. And it had been minutes, at least, _felt_ like longer, he- he was sure it had been.

“Did it _work_ ,” Audrey repeated, reaching up to press one hand to his cheek, and it felt odd, slightly muted, but it also wasn’t the _only_ feeling; his clothing dragged, his unsteady breaths burned in his lungs, he could feel the rough texture of the crystal clutched in his hand. “Are- Howard disappeared, and you just kind of, just kind of _flickered_ -”

“Just now? It, there- _flickered_? I was _gone_ , I was-”

“No, you weren’t,” Audrey said, smoothing her thumb over his cheek, the look of concern and confusion intensifying. “Nathan, you didn’t go anywhere, Howard was _here_ and then he wasn’t, and you flickered and stumbled and I grabbed you.” She tightened her hand around his arm, indicating the hold she still had.

“...It worked,” Nathan said, shaking his head. “Must’ve, I was- I was somewhere just like the Barn. Hallways, and doors. Thought it was- a few minutes, at least. Was trying to... understand. What I was supposed to do.”

“...Minutes?” Audrey’s expression went pensive, lips curving into a sharp frown. “We know time didn’t work the same way in the Barn, maybe- maybe it doesn’t work the same way for you, now, at least, at least not when you’re... not out here. But that, that’s good, right, it- it worked.” Audrey’s expression shifted, _lightened_ , relief and pleasure and _hope_ , shining out from her eyes and showing in the start of a fragile smile.

He clung to that, focused in on the tiny details of her eyes and mouth and the curve of her cheek, the warmth of her hand on his cheek and the strength of her grip on his arm, all real, all _present_. And he was experiencing them; felt the automatic warmth in his stomach at her smile, the reflexive urge to smile back, could feel her touch and smell the clean spiciness of his shampoo, which she’d started using when she’d run out of her own, could categorize each of those details and react to them.

Could still feel _fear_ , and that was one question answered. Could still feel the draw of Audrey’s presence, could still _think_ and _react_ -

-he wasn’t just some file, some _remnant_ , wasn’t just some anonymous doorway. He _wasn’t_. He was still _him_ , was still _real_.

Was real enough to touch, and be touched.

“...Nathan?” Audrey said, that fragile smile starting to fall away, and Nathan tilted his head, pressed into her touch. Took a more measured breath, and reached out, mirrored her hand on his cheek, forced a smile and tried not to show how distracting it was to feel it.

“I’m okay,” he said, answering her concern before she could lose her smile entirely. “Sorry. Was- odd. Just. Getting used to it.”

“...Okay,” Audrey said, looking like she wasn’t entirely certain, but she moved closer, pressed their foreheads together once more. Lingered for a second, before she tilted into a kiss, and Nathan matched her, kissed back light and careful. “Okay. We, we can do this. Right?”

“We can do this,” he promised, and maybe he was still a little rattled, but he meant it.

They’d solved one impossible problem. They could solve the next. And once the Core was fixed-

- _shit_.

“Not... quite sure what we need to do,” he admitted. “Should’ve- should’ve looked for that, I just-”

“We have time,” Audrey said, the words firm. “Just- it’ll take Vickie some time, to make the sketch, and then to fix it, we have time.” She kissed him again, a soft, lingering press of lips, and there was _confidence_ in her when she pulled away. _Certainty_ , and it was steadying to see.

He knew very well that Audrey Parker could accomplish whatever she set her mind to, long as she believed she could.

“I’ll get it figured out,” he said, because she was right. They had time, and maybe more than it looked, if he really could just... wander, inside, without burning time outside. Howard had said they would have everything they needed, so the answers had to be accessible _somehow_. Finding them might be a slightly daunting task, but it wasn’t impossible.

After all, he was pretty sure that whatever it was that operated the crystal had been _trying_ to answer his questions, had been trying to provide him what he asked for.

He could do this.

The lights blinked, flashing slowly, and Nathan and Audrey both looked up- the light above the door blinked quickly, before they all settled back down.

“Thanks, Laverne,” Audrey said, straightening up just as a soft knock sounded. “Must be Vickie. Let’s- let’s go get this finished.”

“Yeah,” Nathan agreed, tucking the crystal into his pocket. Which was a strange thought; if he was something the crystal was projecting, what would happen if he tried to- _deactivate_ , the way Howard had, while he was holding it? Would it simply... fall to the ground, when he vanished?

Probably not something he wanted to test, all things considered. He drew it back out, and caught Audrey’s wrist before she could open the door.

“You should prob’ly hold on to this,” he said, pressing it into her hand; her fingers closed around it, and Nathan felt an odd, giddy _swoop_ , a tingling rush of energy that was entirely unexpected.

“Good idea,” Audrey said, tucking it into _her_ pocket, and the feeling dimmed, but didn’t entirely fade. “...You sure you’re okay?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, just. Still figuring things out,” he said, forcing a faint smile.

Whatever it was, he’d figure it out eventually.

Audrey opened the door, reached out automatically to fold Vickie, and then Gloria, into a hug. Then she fixed Vickie with a smile, all confidence and easy surety.

“So where do you want to get set up?”

***

Vickie was concentrating, bent over her sketchbook with Gloria sitting nearby, holding Aaron and talking quietly with Audrey. It seemed as good a time as any; Dwight and his people were out trying to handle whatever the newest crisis was, as far as Nathan knew, and no one required his attention. He excused himself, retreated back into his office, and sat down. Whatever Howard had done to come and go, to pass between being _outside_ and being _inside_ , it had been quick and not particularly obvious- he hadn’t manifested any giant doors to walk through, anyway, and he hadn’t seemed to need to be touching the crystal. So Nathan _should_ be able to replicate that, should be able to get back inside the crystal somehow.

He just... needed to figure it out.

Howard hadn’t needed to say anything, hadn’t really appeared to _do_ anything. There had to be some kind of trigger, some way of... willing himself back. Nathan closed his eyes, feeling a little foolish even if there wasn’t anyone there to see him- except Laverne, but she’d seen him grow up, she’d probably seen him do more ridiculous things than this- and concentrated.

_Let me in?_ he tried, thinking the words. He opened his eyes just a crack, peeking out- no, still definitely in his office. He closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and tried again.

_Let me in_.

Still nothing.

He opened his eyes, and leaned forward in his chair, frustrated at himself; this shouldn’t be difficult. Whatever he was now, it _should_ be natural to him, shouldn’t it? It shouldn’t be something he had to fight for.

He stood up, and paced the length of the room, wishing he hadn’t traded the last of his scotch a week ago for an extra quarter-bag of coffee grounds. No matter how much sense it’d made at the time.

_Let me in, please?_ he tried, not that he expected the crystal would care how polite his request was. It didn’t help, and he raked a hand through his hair, trying to _think_ -

_You always did think too much, Nate_.

The words itched away at the back of his mind, and Nathan clenched his hands, not sure what had sparked the memory.

_Just gotta relax once in a while. You can’t think your way into a state of calm, you have to_ feel _it. Look at the bowl- picture your mind as the bowl. Empty it, let your thoughts just... pour out._

The memory was unsettlingly clear, clearer than it’d been in years. Duke had only just gotten back into town, and they’d been drinking and talking and Nathan had complained about stress, working with his father. Duke had tried to teach him how to meditate.

It hadn’t worked.

Still, the memory pressed in, clear enough to sting; he could smell the salt air, feel the wind and the fading sun on his skin, taste the strange little micro-brew beer- could hear the precise cadence of Duke’s voice as he spoke. Could see him, relaxed and confident and _unbroken_ , and Nathan’s stomach twisted.

_Picture your mind as the bowl. Empty it, let your thoughts just... pour out._

_You have to_ feel _it._

“This is ridiculous,” Nathan snapped, at himself or at Duke-who-was, he wasn’t sure. There was a curious sort of tremble in the lights, but no other answer, and Nathan hissed out a sigh and tried to push the memory away.

_Picture_ -

“ _Enough_ ,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’ll try, just- _enough_.”

The memory faded, the salt and the sun and the sense of _presence_ , and it hurt more than he’d expected it to. But that had been a long time ago, no matter how real it had felt.

And if he could figure this out, there’d be other chances.

He was pretty sure picturing his mind as a bowl wouldn’t do him any good; he didn’t want to _relax_ , he wanted to _go somewhere_. But where he’d been, before, it was _visual_ , or at least, he’d interpreted it as visual, and it was somewhere to start.

And the crystal seemed to like doors.

He concentrated, tried to remember the door into the Barn, the way it had looked on the hillside.

_The sun was low on the horizon. Even here, he could smell the smoke, the disturbed earth. Audrey looked at him like her heart was breaking, tears in her eyes and_ determination _in every line- and pulled his gun, held it out to Duke._

Nathan jolted, helpless fear and shuddering grief and _fury_ rolling over him, too present and too real, and it took him a moment too long to recognize that he was still in his office. That he wasn’t _back there_ , watching Audrey walk away while ruin poured down on his town behind them. Wasn’t _losing her_ , again.

The whole point of this exercise was to make sure that never happened again. This Barn wasn’t going to take her away from him, not this time. They were going to build it to _fix_ the Troubles, to _help_ the town.

It wasn’t going to be anyone’s prison. Audrey wasn’t going to have to sacrifice herself to protect them.

He didn’t have to watch her walk away again, not if he could just _figure this out_.

He forced himself to steady, and closed his eyes again. All he needed was the doorway; he didn’t need to see the rest. He could picture _just_ the doorway; rough wood, old and warping, but still _heavy_ , still terribly, terribly solid. Rusted hinges that creaked when the door was pulled- he _pulled_ -

-white walls white floor dark doorways.

They finished this, he owed Duke an apology.

He looked around, still trying to find some way to orient himself, some pattern or sense. The doorway behind him was familiar, was _his_ ; a single reference point was better than _none_ , but it still didn’t help much.

He walked forward slowly, looking around warily, but he didn’t want to chance touching any of the other doorways, not if he didn’t have to.

“How do we build the new Barn?” he asked, hoping like hell the crystal would actually _answer_.

There was a single long moment, and the hallway shifted around him- though not fast enough to leave him dizzy, this time. When it stopped, he wasn’t facing doorways; a wide, blank stretch of wall faced him, images flickering rapidly across the surface. They flashed by almost too fast to see, and Nathan was pretty sure he was developing a headache trying to track them.

“Can you slow it down?” he asked, but the images kept moving at the same speed, flickering past again and again. Looping, and... _waiting_ , he thought, the word settling low in his stomach. Waiting for _what_ -

He’d had to touch the doorways.

Nathan reached out, pressed his hand to the wall, and the information poured over him in a rush, fast and confusing and full of concepts he wasn’t sure he understood. And then it _stopped_ , left him facing a blank wall with a pounding head and a rushing in his ears.

But he was pretty sure he knew what they needed to do, knew what Audrey would need to do. Knew how to help Audrey do it.

He pushed away from the wall, pressed a hand to his temple and wondered just what exactly it meant that he had a _headache_. He wasn’t sure he actually had a _head_ , at the moment, wasn’t sure he existed in any kind of physical form, so how the hell could he _hurt_?

At least the walls weren’t glowing quite as brightly, now, the odd reflective light appearing to have toned itself down.

“I need the door to the outside,” he said, and there was a long pause before the walls shifted and the distinct, _different_ door appeared once more. He pushed against it, less frantic than the last time, and it swung open slowly. He stepped through, felt the hard, unyielding surface of the concrete give way to the slightly less inflexible floor of the station, and let himself smile, pleased that he’d managed it _properly_ this time.

At least, until Gloria swore and nearly upended the chair she’d been sitting in.

“The _hell_ did you come from?!” she demanded, as Vickie startled and pulled back, and Audrey froze with her hand halfway to her gun. Nathan quickly lifted his hands in surrender, taking a rapid step back and away from the three very alarmed women; he couldn’t exactly blame them for being jumpy, and he _probably_ should have thought about where, exactly, he wanted the door to let him out.

“Sorry,” he said, shuffling another step back, and giving Audrey an apologetic look. “Thought I’d come back same place I left.”

“Did it work? Did you find out?” Audrey asked, relaxing out of her defensive pose, and Gloria glared between the two of them.

“That is _not_ your Trouble,” she said, still clearly rattled.

“It worked. Got what we needed. Soon as the Core’s done, we can finish this,” Nathan said, not quite able to keep back a slow smile.

“What worked? What did he get?” Vickie asked, settling back properly into her seat.

“Information,” Audrey said, giving Vickie a bright grin. “And you’re right, Gloria. It’s not a Trouble at all. Nathan, he... took over, for Howard. So that he could help me.”

“...I don’t want to know,” Gloria said, after a moment’s pause. “Whatever you did, as long as it works, _good_.”

“It’s working,” Audrey said, still smiling. “Only one piece left.”

“Yeah, _about_ that.”

The heavy words rolled out from the corner, Duke unfolding himself out of the shadows with a deliberate ease that looked nothing like his usual feline grace. Nathan _felt_ the chill that rolled up his spine, felt it as his stomach dropped and his pulse quickened- not helped by the sudden blaring of alarms outside the station, as Laverne clearly tried to summon _help_.

Not that there was really any help to be had. Nathan had seen that clearly enough when Duke had walked through every obstacle they’d put in front of him like it was a _game_ , when he’d made it clear that he’d simply turned their trap around and made it his own.

“Gotta say, this, this was _clever_ ,” Duke said, stalking forward at a slow saunter, eyes gleaming ink-black as he smiled and gestured at Vickie with the hilt of his knife. He turned, smile widening as he focused his attention on Audrey. “But then, you always were _clever_. Always knew... just what to say, just how to get what you needed.”

“Duke, _stop_ ,” Nathan said, as Audrey clenched her jaw and pulled to her feet, placing herself between Duke and Vickie. Duke turned his head to fix Nathan with a cold look, smile falling away into a feral snarl.

“You really want to try this again, Nate? Didn’t work out so well for you last time,” he spat, and Nathan drew himself up, took a step forward, hands held out to his sides.

“Don’t want to fight you, Duke. But I’m not gonna let you hurt them,” he said, trying to keep his tone level.

“Them?” Duke asked, slipping back into that terrible smile. “I’m only here for the girl. ...And the Core. But the rest of you, you get to walk away from this.”

“That’s not gonna happen, Duke,” Audrey said, pulling Vickie in closer against her body, shielding her as much as she could. “We’re not going to let you do this.”

“You can’t _stop me_ ,” Duke said, sounding almost... disbelieving, sounding _amused_. “You know that. I could have her-”

Duke _vanished_ , disappeared without so much as a flicker-

“In the blink of an eye.” The mocking words came from behind them, and Nathan spun, caught sight of him leaning against a column just beyond the table. Audrey turned in the same instant, dragging Vickie with her, and Vickie started to cry, soft, terrified little sounds.

“Damnit, kid, you don’t want to do this,” Gloria said, the words aching and full of hurt, and Duke _laughed_ , bared his teeth in a display nothing like a smile.

“I really, really do,” he said, taking a step forward. “So do the smart thing, and... look away. Protect your own. You were always good at that. And it’d be a shame if Aaron lost the last of his family because you got _soft_ in your old age.”

“You don’t mean that,” Gloria said, her voice shaking. “And I know it. You wouldn’t say that, not you.”

“Believe what you want,” Duke hissed. “You were always good at that, too.” He paced forward, taking a curving path around the edge of the table- a path that put distance between himself and Gloria, took him nearer to Nathan, and Nathan stepped into his way, kept his hands down and away from his sides.

“Duke. Don’t, don’t do this. Please. Know you’re still in there. Need you to _fight him_ , Duke. _Please_. Know you can.”

“You just _do not get it_ , do you.” Duke shook his head, _pity_ in his voice. “I am here, Nate. This is me. The real me, the only one. This is _who I am_. This is what I was meant to be.”

“No, it isn’t.” Audrey shifted, kept herself between Duke and Vickie, but she leaned forward, canted her body as if she were struggling not to reach out. “Duke, this isn’t who you were meant to be, none of this was _meant to be_. You know that. You and me, we’re, we’re fighting our fates, full time, remember? And I know it didn’t look like it, but we were winning. The both of us. We were winning because we were fighting _together_. And I’m- I’m sorry. That I let you think you were fighting alone. That I- that I _left you_ alone. I should’ve seen- but we can still, we can still beat this, Duke. You and me, we can still get through this. Because we’re not alone. _You’re not alone_ , Duke.”

“Am I supposed to be moved?” Duke asked, the words _harsh_ , all the pity and amusement gone from his tone. His posture shifted, the easy fluidity of his movements turning sharp and staccato as he took a long stride in her direction. “Am I supposed to be so _grateful_ for your notice, for your _apology_ , that I throw myself at your feet? Do you really think you’re that important?” He barked out a sound that seemed intended as a laugh, but fell well short of the mark, and Nathan shifted, pulled back instinctively from the violence of the sound. Something was _wrong_ , something had shifted-

-Audrey was getting to him, she had to be. And Croatoan was pushing back harder. “Nate already tried that play, sweetheart. Didn’t work.”

“Duke-” Nathan started, and Duke turned on him, shoved him hard enough to throw him.

“I’m not supposed to kill the two of you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t _hurt you_ if you _get in my way_ ,” he snarled. “So _don’t_.”

“Duke. You don’t want to do this,” Audrey said, holding her ground as Duke advanced on her, and Nathan scrambled to get to his feet, trying to ignore the bright flares of pain where he’d hit the ground. “I know you don’t, you _told us_ you don’t-”

Duke flickered, vanished from in front of Audrey to appear behind her, and Vickie gave a terrified wail as Duke grabbed her, as he yanked her back. Audrey spun, lunged forward, putting herself close enough that Duke had to be careful of her, and he _was_ trying to be careful of her, his own instincts or Croatoan’s orders or both. Nathan rushed forward as well, took advantage of the wild tangle of limbs and movement to get past Duke’s guard and catch one arm, twisting it behind him and forcing the knife from his grip. He was startled by his own success, didn’t understand- Duke was far, far stronger than he was, now, had at least a dozen Troubles at his disposal that he’d been _using_ , Nathan shouldn’t have been able to disarm him, shouldn’t have been able to get a hold on him.

Shouldn’t have been a factor _at all_ , Duke could- and _had_ \- simply freeze them in place and do whatever he wanted.

He could’ve killed Vickie before any of them even knew he was there, and been gone again before they realized the deed was done.

_I could have her in the blink of an eye._

_You don’t want to do this. You told us you don’t_.

Audrey had seen the same thing, she had to have. Duke wasn’t just toying with them; he was fighting back the only way he could.

He was giving them _time_.

Duke wrenched free of his grip, turned and _shoved_ , sending Audrey and Vickie both slamming into Nathan, twisting back, _away_ , and for an instant it looked like he was _retreating_ , even as Nathan fumbled to keep his feet while Audrey tried to keep Vickie from hitting the floor-

-until Nathan realized that Duke had come away from the scuffle with Vickie’s notebook in hand.

“Duke, _don’t-_ ” he shouted, but Duke just flashed his teeth in a mocking grin as he ripped the top page in half.

The Core, still wedged firmly in place where Vickie had set it to work on her sketch, crumbled silently to dust.

Nathan heard, distantly, Audrey’s cry of frustration, but he couldn’t focus on it; he felt _heavy_ , felt... _fatigued_.

The world moved in fits and starts, jerky and confusing- each instant seemed to _stretch_ , but they were awkward, unconnected, pieces missing from the flow of movement and action. He couldn’t track, didn’t understand- sound faded and stretched, warped and impossible to distinguish. For a lingering moment, he saw Audrey start to turn toward him, saw Duke start to toss the notebook aside; then, abruptly, the notebook was on the floor and Audrey had her back turned to Vickie and Duke both, reaching out; then just as suddenly Audrey’s hands were around his wrists and _sound_ re-entered the world, Audrey’s voice urgent and demanding as she called his name.

“Nathan! Nathan, look at me, what’s happening?” she asked, and that, that was _bad_ , they needed- they _needed_ to be focused on the _very real threat_ Duke presented, but Nathan was still _dragging_ , struggling to put information in order. He was distantly aware that he’d dropped to his knees, felt a tremble roll through his limbs, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt quite so _drained_.

“...Crystal. Must’ve- still been drawing on the Core,” he managed. “Howard said- not much power left.”

“What does that _mean_?” Audrey asked, and Nathan shook his head, because he couldn’t deal with that, _they_ couldn’t deal with that, he could feel that Audrey’s touch had- had _stabilized_ him, somehow, and he’d figure that out _later._ Now, he wasn’t about to shut down, and Audrey, at least, still had the strength to _act_ , and they had a _much more pressing issue_.

Because their seconds of inattention had been exactly enough for Duke to get his knife back in hand- though he was _paused_ , head tilted, eyes narrowed in an expression of _assessment_. Nathan could see him register the moment Nathan’s attention was back on him, and he _moved_ , caught Vickie around the waist and dragged her in against his chest. Vickie keened as he dragged her back a handful of steps, blade set threateningly against her throat.

“You wanna stay real still, sweetheart,” Duke crooned, shifting to push Vickie down against the desk just above the remains of the Core. Audrey’s hands tightened sharply around Nathan’s wrists even as she turned, started to step forward, but there was _no way_ , they were too far back, Duke could cut her throat before they’d _moved_ -

-except he didn’t, he brought the blade _up_ in a sharp and precise movement, and Vickie sobbed as the knife scored a fine line across her temple. It looked like a _trivial_ cut, looked relatively _harmless_ \- but it was _bleeding_ , heavy and fast, blood spilling down onto the desk.

Onto the dust.

“Duke, _stop_ , please, please just- just let Vickie go, you, you know her Trouble only works on the first sketch, we can’t, we- we can’t have her fix it, _please_ , she’s not a threat-” Audrey pulled away from Nathan, took a step forward, and Duke dropped the blade down again, pressed it once more against Vickie’s throat.

The loss of Audrey’s touch left Nathan reeling; it was all he could do to keep from dropping any further, fear crawling up his throat- he couldn’t _help_ , couldn’t _move_.

“You just stay over there,” he warned, “or she’s gonna lose a lot more than she needs to.”

“Please,” Vickie said, soft and trembling, “please, just- just let me go, I won’t draw anymore, I promise!”

“Not my call,” Duke said, but his tone was _distant_ , had lost some of the deliberate threat- he was watching the blood pooling on the table with a terrible focus.

Audrey shifted again, and Duke pulled Vickie back, kept her pinned against his chest with one arm, knife still dangerously close to her throat as he reached out with his other hand. Audrey made an awful sound of _comprehension_ and darted forward, but too slow; Duke dragged his hand through the pool of dark, dark red, and it didn’t just start to absorb- it _climbed_ , wrapping around his hand and wrist as it sunk in.

The desk was left clean, no trace of the dust from the Core left behind.

“What did you _do_ ,” Audrey asked, the words low and horrified and _overwhelmed_ , and Duke tilted his head, fixed her with a pitying look.

“I got what I came for.” Duke turned, lifting Vickie entirely off of her feet and throwing her over his shoulder, ignoring the way she yelped and struggled; her fists pounding against his back didn’t earn so much as a flicker in response. “The Core, and the girl. Lucky for her, her Trouble’s more useful right where it is- she’s gonna get to draw whole new _worlds_.” Duke took a step forward, into Audrey’s space, looming over her, and his expression went bleak and amused. “And in case you were wondering? _This_ is what winning looks like.”

“No,” Audrey bit back, drawing herself up, not yielding even an inch, expression bleak and determined. Nathan tried to gather the strength to climb back to his feet, needed to _move_ \- Duke might have to be careful of her, but Nathan still _hated_ seeing her try and hold her ground alone- but there was nothing, nothing to pull from, nothing to reach for. “This is what _surrendering_ looks like. And the Duke I know? Doesn’t _surrender_.”

“Guess you never really did know me, after all,” Duke said, flashing a cutting smile. He moved to step around her, and she blocked his way, staying between him and the door.

“Yes, I did, Duke. I _do_. And this, this isn’t you. _You_ helped us _stop_ someone from trying to use Vickie to hurt people, remember? You came through for me, you helped us protect her. Because _that’s_ who you are, you _help_ people. You help _us_.”

“Like I _came through for you_ with Nix? Like I _helped you_ with _Ben_?” Duke cut a glance back at Gloria, visibly measuring the impact of his words; Gloria drew Aaron closer against her chest, reproach in her silent glare. “Like I helped _Hailie_ , after I dragged her back to this town because you _needed_ something from her? This is what you _wanted_ , Audrey, this is what you _asked for_.” Duke’s expression curled into a snarl, and Nathan lost the present for a second as Duke leaned down into Audrey’s space, _too close_ and _too hostile_ and so much like yesterday, and he knew the words before they fell. “You wanted a Crocker. Well _here I am_.”

Audrey, though, Audrey didn’t bend, didn’t flinch, met his threatening proximity by leaning forward in turn, and her expression went soft and sad and _shattered_.

“I didn’t want a _Crocker_ , Duke. I wanted my _friend_ , the one who could help me carry all the things neither one of us should’ve had to.”

Duke went very, very still, expression blanking out under those words, the feral edge fading into something tenuous and out of place beneath those black eyes, and Nathan felt his breath catch at the sight. Audrey’s gaze flickered rapidly over his face, eyes narrowing just slightly as she dragged in a breath and continued.

“And I asked too much, and I wasn’t there when you needed me, and maybe this is my fault. Maybe I did do this to you. But _you_ are better than this. You were _never_ just a Crocker, not to me.” She reached out, laid her hand along Duke’s cheek, and he flinched back like she’d struck him, jerked away, trembling-

-and his wide, wide eyes were _human_ , earth-brown and terrified.

And then the black rolled back down, and his expression went vicious, _furious_ , and he reached out, grabbed Audrey’s wrist, _violence_ in the movement-

-and suddenly there was something to pull from, a weak little flutter of _energy_ that hadn’t been there before. Nathan clung to it, dragged it in and dragged himself to his feet, and he was shaking, but he could _move_.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Duke snarled, pushing Audrey back, and Audrey winced, stumbled as she was forced back, but there was something raw and certain in her eyes now.

“Duke, _please_ ,” she urged, bringing her other hand up to cling to his wrist, “you can fight this, I _know_ you can fight this, you are _better than this-_ ”

“ _No!_ ” He twisted, trying to shake Audrey off, but she held on doggedly, and Nathan managed the handful of steps to reach them, got a shaking hand around Duke’s bicep, and the flicker of energy became a _flood_. Startled, Nathan latched on, took advantage of the boost to hold as tightly as he could, feeling solid muscle flex and tremble under his hand.

“ _Yes_ ,” Audrey insisted, and Duke _shuddered_ , dropped to his knees with his head bowed, and when he looked up, the dark had retreated again. He let go of Vickie, sending her tumbling, and she scrambled up, looked _uncertain_ for a moment.

“Jesus, go, _run_ ,” Duke bit out, and Vickie bolted, bounced against one of the desks as she fled to Gloria’s side- Gloria hesitated only a second, looking back, but she wrapped an arm around Vickie’s back and pushed her along, heading for the exit and the slim hope of _safety_. Nathan could only assume Laverne would make sure they could get out; as soon as they were out of sight, his attention fixed completely on Duke and Audrey.

“Stay with us, Duke, hold on,” Audrey said urgently, and Duke shook his head, eyes wild.

“I can’t, Audrey, I can’t-”

“You _can_ ,” she said, and Nathan wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a plea. “You can, I know you can.” She ran her hand up his arm, her fingers skating over Nathan’s on the way up, rested her palm against the side of his neck, and even frantic and wild, Duke leaned into the touch.

“It’s _stronger than me_ ,” Duke bit out, reaching up to grab Nathan’s wrist and meeting his eyes with a desperate sort of urgency. “You _saw_ -”

“Don’t believe that,” Nathan said, voice cracking, and he didn’t look away, couldn’t bear to break that line of contact. “Just _hold on._ ”

“Stay with us, Duke,” Audrey repeated, _pleading_. “We only just got you back, we can’t lose you again.”

“Know you, damnit, too damn _stubborn_ to let him win,” Nathan said, curling his hand around Duke’s where Duke was digging bruises into his wrist; he held just as tight, as if they could anchor him by that alone. “Been winnin’ on spite alone since we were kids, don’t you _dare_ stop now.”

Duke made an awful sound, low and pained, another shudder rolling through him, and his eyes flicked dark-light-dark, and his expression twisted, bitter and furious and _intent_ -

_“No,_ ” he snarled, but it wasn’t the chilling, indolent _hiss_ Nathan expected, it was rough and raw and _familiar_. “No, I- I _won’t_ -”

“Hold on, _hold on_ , we’re right here, just- just _stay with us_ -” Audrey dropped to her knees, pressed close, her fingers curling around the back of Duke’s neck, and Nathan tightened his grip, fingernails digging half-moons into the back of Duke’s hand.

“C’mon, _c’mon_ , damnit, push back,” he urged, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. Trying not to let even a trace of doubt show as he sought to root Duke to _himself_.

Duke shifted, _folded_ , his entire body curling into Audrey’s space, and he was shaking so badly it was visible, sweat beading on his skin despite the chill air, and Audrey moved to drag him closer still, hands clutching as she pulled his head down onto her shoulder. His hand flexed around Nathan’s wrist, and it _hurt_ , his unnatural strength doing Nathan no favors, but Nathan locked his jaw and _held_ , held with every last ounce of his own substantial reserve of _stubbornness_.

Duke cried out, muscles going taut and strained, and _something_ was happening, the pressure in the room dropping so sharply that Nathan’s ears popped; the moment stretched, _hung_ -

-and the tension _snapped_ , Duke collapsing bonelessly against Audrey, his grip on Nathan’s wrist going completely slack. Audrey shifted, tried to push Duke upright, her hands roaming, stopping at throat and wrist for brief instants before slipping up to cradle his cheeks.

“Duke! Duke, c’mon, look at me, are you with me? I need you to look at me, okay, I need you to _open your eyes_. Please, Duke, please just- just, need you to look at me.”

“...Never... had a problem with that,” Duke mumbled, the words slurred and rough. He sounded _exhausted_ , sounded utterly drained, but he managed to blink at Audrey as he swayed in place, and his eyes were clear, if unfocused.

“Hey,” Audrey said, the word hitching and wet and _relieved_. She smiled, fragile and brilliant, a pair of tears rolling down her cheeks. “There you are. I knew you were still in there. I knew you could do it.”

“That makes one of us,” Duke said, and Nathan squeezed his hand sharply. Duke blinked dazedly, managed to look up, brows furrowing, and Nathan frowned at him.

“Two of us. You were the only holdout.”

“...Huh,” Duke said, and he laughed, a breathless, strained noise that tapered off into a pitiful cough, but it still made something in Nathan _relax_ to hear it. He turned his gaze back to Audrey, and there were shadows in the frail smile he offered, but it was _something_ , at least. “You remember... what I said, about expectations?”

“...Expectations lead to suffering?” Audrey asked, visibly thrown, and Duke laughed again, a brief, startled huff.

“ _Lower them_ ,” he corrected. “I’d take it as a personal kindness if you did, living up to them is very, very hard.”

“Never,” Audrey said, with a damp, shaky laugh of her own. She pulled him close again, dragged his head down onto her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. “Not ever, Duke. I know you too well for that.”

“Audrey- the things I, I did-”

“That wasn’t you,” Audrey said, immediate and sharp. “That wasn’t you, we know it wasn’t.” Duke shifted, looked like he was trying to pull back, and Audrey tightened her grip on him, as if she could shield him from all that had happened, shield him from his own guilt. Duke went startle-still, like he hadn’t expected that, like it was only just registering that she was _holding him_ , and Nathan shifted, broke his wrist loose from Duke’s slack grip so that he could better manage his own hold, trying to emphasize Audrey’s words with his own contact.

Duke’s fingers flexed when Nathan moved, a desperate and automatic effort to _hold on_ , and Nathan’s stomach twisted. He slid his hold up from nearly on Duke’s wrist to fold around his palm instead, and Duke latched on, held fast to Nathan’s fingers. He glanced up, looked over the top of Audrey’s shoulder questioningly, and Nathan gave a careful squeeze, a silent assurance that the contact was absolutely intentional. Duke looked wary, for a moment, visibly uncertain, but he squeezed back, and brought his other hand up to rest lightly on Audrey’s back, fingers curling into the material of her shirt.

Letting them touch, and touching in turn, no matter how uncertain he was.

Because no matter what happened, he always came back, always let them back in.

Nathan wished it hadn’t taken so long, so _much_ , for him to recognize that.

He brushed his thumb lightly over Duke’s fingers, and reached down to drop his other hand on Audrey’s shoulder, taking the moment to just- _settle_ , because _moments_ were in short supply. They still had impossible problems to solve, and they weren’t _safe_ , but for now, they were _together_.

And impossible problems seemed a hell of a lot less daunting with their team _whole_ again.

Audrey was the one to pull back, just far enough to push herself to her feet and lever Duke up with her, and when she turned to Nathan her expression was focused and intense.

“What happened to you when the Core disintegrated?” she asked, and Duke flinched, moved to pull away, but Nathan tightened his grip and Audrey shifted right back into his space, reaching out to curl her hand into his shirt. “It wasn’t you, Duke, we’re not blaming you. I just need to understand.”

“Howard said... After everything, crystal didn’t have much power left. It must’ve... still been connected to the Core somehow, when it- when it collapsed, just... Could feel it. All my energy just- went.” Nathan shifted awkwardly, and shrugged. “Was a little better, after you grabbed me. A lot better, once he grabbed you.”

“...Aether,” Audrey said, expression going bleak. “Croatoan, he told me, when Mara was young, she was sick. He used aether to cure her, she- _I_ \- have aether in me. When I grabbed you, you must’ve been able to draw on it, enough to keep from shutting down.”

“And I’m practically bleeding it,” Duke said, the words bitter, before he shook his head. “But back up, what the _hell_ are you talking about? What does the crystal have to do with Nathan, why-”

“Howard was damaged,” Nathan said, keeping his tone carefully level. “What happened with the Core, when he tried to make the new Barn, it... broke him. He couldn’t do what needed doin’. Someone had to take his place. Made sense for it to be me.”

“ _What_.” The word was less a question and more a flat statement of disbelief, and Duke took a step closer, ducked his head and gave Nathan a demanding look. “You did _what exactly?_ ”

“He took Howard’s place as the controller,” Audrey said, her tone just as carefully level as Nathan’s, and Duke turned on her with the same disbelieving, demanding expression. She met it with an unyielding levelness, one eyebrow quirking up. “Someone had to. We couldn’t finish the Barn without someone to fill that role. Nathan was willing, and capable, and it was his choice to make. We _have_ to finish this, Duke, we don’t have a choice. Croatoan will destroy all of us, if we don’t.”

“...But without the Core...” Duke let the words trail off, and Audrey couldn’t conceal a flicker of _unease_ , glanced at Nathan with fear in her eyes, and Duke _blanched_ , pulled away from both of them, expression _stricken_.

As soon as his fingers slipped free of Nathan’s grip, Nathan felt the world _waver_ , the easy flow of energy guttering out in an instant.

“Nathan!” Audrey _lunged_ , getting her hands around his wrists as she had before, and the world steadied. Duke _swore_ , the words so heavy with self-recrimination they fell like lead weights, and he moved back into Nathan’s space with a brittle, staccato step. He brushed Audrey’s hands away, long fingers closing around Nathan’s wrists in her place, and power flooded back in, left him _dizzy_ with it.

“‘M okay,” he said, shaking his head to try and clear it, and turning his wrists in Duke’s grip so that he could mirror it. He gave a careful squeeze, because Duke had his jaw clenched and his eyes down, was staring fixedly at their hands. “Duke. Not your fault.”

“Pretty much is,” Duke bit out. “Since just about every step of this-”

“ _Wasn’t you_ ,” Nathan interrupted. “So stop blamin’ yourself and let’s _solve this_.”

“ _How_?” Duke snapped, looking up, meeting Nathan’s eyes with a hollow glare. “Pretty sure we can’t just run down to the hardware store and pick up a spare _aether Core_ , and none of this _works_ without one-”

“Void’s full of aether,” Nathan said, cutting him off. “You can open a door, we can go, collect whatever we need. Audrey can build a new Core, we come back, we set up the new Barn, and we’re _done_.”

“You want to go _back_ into the Void. You _barely_ made it out last time!” Duke objected, indignant.

“Was alone, then,” Nathan pointed out. “Won’t be this time. Three of us, we can handle it. And while we’re _there_ , Croatoan can’t touch us. Whatever else he can do, goin’ back and forth isn’t part of it, or he wouldn’t’ve bothered usin’ Dave.”

“This is a terrible idea. Audrey, _tell him_ this is a terrible idea!” Duke said, turning to fix Audrey with a sharp look. Audrey, though, looked _speculative_ , had on the same expression she wore when weighing evidence.

“I’m not so sure it is,” she said, and Duke made a sound of disbelief bordering on outrage, and Nathan couldn’t quite squash down the edge of _relief_ and _affection_ and _comfort_ that welled up at something so _familiar_. At the three of them, together, figuring it out. At Duke’s petulant disapproval at being _outvoted_ , however serious the situation might actually be.

He hadn’t known just how much he’d come to value the rhythm between them, before he’d lost it. Getting it back only to lose it _again_ barely a day later had hurt more than he’d wanted to acknowledge.

Seeing it now, it felt an awful lot like _hope_.

“We need aether, and a lot of it,” Audrey continued, folding her arms across her chest. “And the only place we know of that’ll have it- and that we can _get to_ \- is the Void. And... It shouldn’t affect me, and Nathan’s not exactly _human_ any longer. We should be okay. We just, we make sure we don’t stay long enough that it starts to make you sick, I don’t see why this won’t work.”

“Yeah?” Duke asked, fixing Audrey with a smile that Nathan knew entirely too well- stubborn and bitter and sure of himself. “How exactly do you see this working when Nate starts to go all _bad strobe effect_ if we aren’t _holding on to him_?”

“...The crystal,” Nathan said, making them both look back at him. “Parker, you first touched it, there was- a reaction. I could feel... something. Might be enough, one of you is touching that. Hell of a lot easier than keeping a hand on _me_ the whole time, if it is.”

“...A reaction,” Duke said, the words carefully flat, and Nathan scowled at him.

“Yes, a reaction,” he said, trying to convey with look alone that _now was not the time_ for innuendo.

“...Can’t hurt to test the theory,” Audrey said, shrugging. “Will you be okay if Duke lets go?”

“Pretty sure,” Nathan said, even as Duke’s grip went reflexively tighter. “Just- don’t go far.”

“I do not like this idea,” Duke gritted out, visibly unhappy.

“Well, no matter _what_ we do, you’re right, it’s going to be a lot harder if we can’t move freely, so we need to figure out if this works,” Audrey pointed out. “Just be ready to grab him if it seems like he’s really in trouble.”

“As if he’s not always?” Duke asked, but the barb was softer than it could’ve been, a trace of faint, habitual _humor_ in the words. Duke hesitated another moment, and Nathan felt his thumbs sweep soft and gentle along the undersides of Nathan’s wrists- _invisible_ , with the way their hands were positioned. He never would have noticed if he couldn’t _feel it_ \- and Duke, he was sure, didn’t _know_ he could feel again.

Nathan wondered, abruptly, just how many gentle, concerned touches he’d _missed_ , over the years, how many silent gestures Duke had offered, but hidden.

Very deliberately, Nathan mirrored the gesture, ran his thumbs lightly along the inside of Duke’s wrists, and Duke startled, eyes going wide. Nathan squeezed his wrists lightly, but they could deal with the implications of that hidden touch _later_ \- right now, they had work to do.

He let go of Duke’s wrists, and Duke hesitated another moment before doing the same, hands curling into fists as he pulled back. Nathan felt the sudden drain, felt the world start to skip-

-felt the sudden giddy _swoop_ from before, and everything went steady. The power that rolled in was... less, than when Duke was touching him, but _more_ than when Audrey had her hands on his skin- she had the crystal held protectively in one hand, and he could hear the faintest echo of a _pulse_ in his ears, just slightly out of sync with his own.

“Workin’,” he said, as if it weren’t obvious. “Steady, at least.”

“Well, that’s something,” Audrey said, looking around. “We’ll need to find some way to... tie it in place, so I can use my hands-”

“So that _I_ can use my hands,” Duke interrupted. “You’re gonna have other things to worry about, if we’re really gonna do this. And I’m carrying more of a charge than you are.” He held out his hand, the gesture cautious, almost _testing_ , and Audrey _hesitated_.

“It’s okay, Parker,” Nathan said quietly, into the awkward tension that filled the space between them. He reached out, caught her wrist, and she gave him an uncertain, _assessing_ look. He’d seen it before; it was the same look she’d given him when he’d told her that they weren’t out of options, when he’d gotten back from 1983. The same look she’d given him when he’d told her that _Duke would come back_ , when she wasn’t sure she could believe it herself. And he understood- they’d missed it, once, let themselves be fooled- but this was not a trick, not a trap. This was _their Duke_ , and Nathan was willing to gamble everything on that fact. “I’m sure.”

Audrey searched his expression, and Nathan let her, let her see that he _meant it_ , and he could see the recognition in her eyes.

She turned, and pressed the crystal into Duke’s hand, her fingers curling around his like a silent apology.

The world went _clear_ , went startlingly bright, and Nathan blinked against the sudden onslaught of _detail_. It felt like a burst of adrenaline after a slow morning start- a vividness and intensity that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing until it was _there_. His thoughts _raced_ , the moment seeming to hang just slightly as he processed it _faster_ , better, than he had before.

He wondered, if this was just a peripheral charge off of the aether in Duke’s system, just what exactly it would be like to be linked to a functional Core.

Duke looked down, and Nathan could see the tiny flickers of emotion- shame and fear and hurt, anger and resentment and recognition, understanding and surprise and vulnerability- mapped out as plain as neon signs as he let his hand fall away from Audrey’s. Knew the exact instant he decided how to respond, knew before he’d said a word that his response would be an effort to deflect with humor.

“So, any, ah, _reaction_?” Duke asked, tone thick with implication. “Or is Audrey just... _particularly_ able to get your motor revving?”

Nathan considered, mind running entirely too quickly over possible responses and their likely results, mapping out what would help _now_ and what would help _later_ , before he quirked a faint, subtle smile.

“You’ll do,” he said, and the words startled a laugh out of Audrey, left Duke _gawking_ , visibly thrown, and some of the tension that had settled in the wake of Audrey’s _hesitation_ slipped away. 

“Alright guys, enough,” Audrey said, but there was warmth in her voice. “Really, though, it’s working?”

“Works fine,” Nathan said. “Feel- sharp. Alert.”

Audrey’s expression flickered- _surprise, consideration, satisfaction, amusement_ \- and he could tell that she was debating making her own playful insinuation, but she just hid a smile behind her hands as she reached up and pressed her fingertips to her forehead, drew them down in a gesture of weary refocusing.

“Okay. Okay, so, we just need-”

“I got it,” Duke said, shaking his head. “Just, hold on to him, may need to set the crystal down for a minute,” he directed. Audrey laced her fingers through Nathan’s, holding on, and Nathan brushed his thumb across her knuckles in silent reassurance. Duke crossed over to the desk, and pulled loose a bit of wire left over from installing the cameras. In moments, he had stripped the insulation from the copper and wrapped the wire neatly around the widest points of the crystal, bracketing them and holding it securely in place. He looped the chain from one of his necklaces through a small twist in the wire, and put it back on, tucking the crystal beneath his shirt.

The distant echo of a pulse sounded _louder_ in Nathan’s ears, quicker than it should be.

“Spent a lot of time watching this girl in Savannah make jewelry,” Duke said, a little defensively. “Is that still... enough?”

“Yeah,” Nathan confirmed. He could still feel the comfortable buzz of energy, was still _alert_ and _focused_.

He felt more _real_ than he had in years.

“I still don’t like this plan,” Duke said, expression drawing into something tight and afraid. “What I saw, while I was outside... What if last time, that wasn’t what it meant?”

“Made sure I got back once,” Nathan said, certain. “You’ll bring me back again.”

“Nate-”

“Can’t exactly just wander off and get _lost_ ,” he pointed out. “We have to finish this.”

“I just-”

The words cut off, Duke’s eyes going wide and fixed, and Nathan felt something _shift_ in the power he was connected to. It trembled down his spine like a sour note, raised the hair on the back of his neck and settled low and awful in his stomach. Audrey looked between them, brow furrowing, confusion and the first wary traces of _alarm_ showing as Nathan _recoiled_ , instant and automatic. Duke _cringed_ , lanky frame folding down defensively, and the steady tempo of his pulse spiked, pounding loud and frantic in Nathan’s ears.

“What-” Audrey started, but the question died as inky black swirled up in Duke’s eyes and _leaked_ , drew out into the air like wire being pulled. Nathan felt it, a thin shivering sense of _peeling_ , felt his energy fluctuate in response. The darkness stretched and coiled, thickening into something solid and animate; it _hung_ , curling and shifting in the air before them.

Then it started to _drift_ , a lazy movement toward one of the windows, and Duke made a soft sound of _fear_.

“That’s-” Nathan started, stomach sinking.

“-a Trouble,” Audrey finished, voice low and horrified. “But it killed everyone else he tried to take Troubles from-”

“He _made us_ to gather Troubles for him,” Duke said, sounding _sick_. “Wouldn’t do him much good if we dropped dead when he tried to collect-”

He broke off, expression shifting to blank horror, and he turned, reached out and swept his hand at the side of the desk. It connected with a dull _thud_ , and he pulled back and tried it again, with the same result.

“ _No_ ,” he breathed, “ _fuck,_ he- he _knows_ , he-”

“Duke?” Audrey asked, and Duke flung a hand up, eyes fixed on the dark smudge. It _froze_ , hanging perfectly still three feet from the window.

“That’s Hailie’s Trouble,” he said, the words cracking. “He knows, he took it! I can’t-”

The shivering, awful _pull_ returned, left Nathan’s skin crawling, and he wondered how much _worse_ that had to be for Duke- even secondhand, it felt like the worst sort of unwelcome touch, felt _unclean_.

A second Trouble writhed its way loose, zipping with much more energy away from the three of them, and the first started moving again as soon as it had, both clumps of aether slipping through the windowglass like it wasn’t there at all.

“ _No!_ ” The furious word tore from Duke’s throat with violent force, and a pile of papers in the corner burst into flames, bright blue and consuming.

“ _Duke_!” Audrey snapped, the word full of command, and Duke flinched back, the flames dulling to yellow, then orange, then muted red before they flickered out and left nothing but a pile of ash and the lingering scent of smoke. Audrey pinned Duke with a look, sharp and wary. “Keep it together,” she ordered, and Duke shook his head.

“I can’t get us into the Void. I can’t slow him down. And those were- those were _trivial_ , Audrey, the things he’s- the things _I took_ -” He cut a glance at the pile of ashes, and curled his hands into fists. “The things he can take from me... You can’t let him have them.”

“We- we will figure this out,” Audrey said, voice strained. “I just, there has to be a way, we-”

A third Trouble poured free, and headed for the window, and Nathan could hear Duke’s heart racing. Could feel it pulsing across his own skin, felt his own adrenaline spike in response to the press of that panic.

“He will tear this town apart, Audrey,” Duke said, no exaggeration in his frantic tone. “I took things that make what we saw before look like _party tricks_ , and that’s just what’s _formed_ , if he, if he takes the rest-”

“I just need to _think_ ,” Audrey said, but Nathan could hear the panic slipping into her voice, knew as well as she did that Croatoan was _already_ an overwhelming force, that they were already entirely, terribly outmatched.

And with each Trouble he pulled out of Duke, he tipped the scales further.

A fourth Trouble emerged, and Duke made a terrible sound, desperate and helpless.

“We don’t have _time_ ,” he said, wretched. “I- I can’t, I... If. If I... If I die, I take them all with me, right?”

“ _No_ ,” Nathan said, sharp, at the same time that Audrey jerked back, appalled.

“That is _not_ an option,” she snapped, and Duke gestured after the fleeing aether.

“We _can’t_ keep letting him take them!” he said, turning to Nathan. “You have to stop it. You have to kill me, you _can’t_ let him get the rest.”

“ _No_ ,” Nathan repeated, a rushing in his ears. “I am _not_ going to kill you, there _has_ to be another option!”

“ _What other option_ ,” Duke demanded, as a fifth Trouble spun away from him. His expression curled into something awful and feral, and he did _something_ , inky black slipping down over his eyes again. The ground began to _hum_ beneath his feet, a threatening tremble that made the walls shake and start to crack. The lights started to flash wildly, and the walls creaked as they tried to pull together once more, and Duke’s eyes went clear again as the ground steadied. “What do you think he wanted that one for?” he asked, the words a threat. “There are _dozens_ more, Nate, and there are still twenty thousand people caught inside this town. _Please_. Please do not make me responsible for all those deaths. Don’t let him do that to me.”

“I don’t _know_ what other option,” Audrey bit out, expression just as dangerous as Duke’s, “but he doesn’t get to take you away from us again. He _doesn’t_. I let it happen with Mara and I let it happen with him and I _will not_ let it happen again!”

“Fine,” Duke said, the word quiet and shattered as a sixth Trouble slipped free and drifted toward the window. “I’ll do it myself.” He dragged the chain with the crystal over his head, and pressed it into Audrey’s hand, forcing her to take it or let it drop. She did, and Duke shoved past Nathan, headed for the door. Nathan made a strangled sound of refusal- the door _locked_ , in response, and Audrey drew herself up, pale and furious and _scared_.

“Duke, _STOP_ ,” she commanded, and Nathan _felt it_ , the ripple of those words snapping through the power Duke held. Duke _froze_ , and Nathan knew he hadn’t stopped voluntarily, could see it in the wildness and uncertainty in his eyes, and Nathan bit out a curse at having missed something _so obvious_.

“Parker, _call it back_ ,” he demanded. “The aether, what he’s taking, _call it back!_ ”

“What- _oh!_ ” Audrey’s eyes went wide, and whatever hold she’d had on Duke seemed to break; he stumbled, and turned back, brows furrowed.

“Will that _work_?” he asked, but there was a waver in his voice, a flickering trace of desperate hope.

“That’s why he wants you,” Nathan reminded, the words rough. “Because you’re _better at this than him_.”

“ _Mara’s_ better at this than him,” Audrey rasped, but he could see her _thinking_ , could see her gathering herself. Knew she was going to _try_ , because she had no other choice, and she was going to _succeed_ , because she had to.

The alternative was simply not an option. Duke was not an acceptable loss.

And there was nothing Audrey Parker wasn’t capable of, when she had to be.

“Mara’s gone. You aren’t,” Nathan said. “ _You_ helped Charlotte build the Core, not Mara. It answers to _you_. You can do this.”

Audrey hesitated, visibly unsure, and cut a glance at Duke.

Her expression went hard and certain, and she closed her eyes and turned, one hand coming up in front of her. The sixth aether clump, just reaching the window, _trembled_ in the air; it slowed, and _stretched_ , forming a long, pulled line that thrashed and spun as it inched incrementally closer to the glass.

Audrey wrapped her hand more firmly around the crystal she held, dragged in a rough breath, and curled the fingers of her raised hand.

The rope of aether bucked, and inched back toward her.

Audrey made a bright sound, thick with satisfaction, and pulled her hand in, just slightly, and the aether continued its slow crawl, working its way back across the room.

Duke _buckled_ , hit the floor with a startled cry, and Audrey whined, high and sharp, the aether slipping from her grip. The world _flickered_ , and Nathan caught only glimpses- Audrey stumbling half a step; another; Audrey on her knees next to Duke, hand extended.

There was a slow _jolt_ , and time connected again, but everything was dim and distant, and it took Nathan longer than it should to realize that Audrey was half-holding Duke, her fingers laced through his with the crystal pressed between them as he listed brokenly against her side. And _that_ , that could not be good, if he were still _so slow_ with the both of them touching the crystal, but he didn’t understand what had happened.

“Stay with us,” Audrey demanded, voice shaking and pained. “Nathan, stay with us-”

“What-” he started, and Duke shuddered, made a sound that Nathan wished he could unhear. His body twisted and bucked, veins standing out along corded muscle, and Audrey growled out a _refusal_ and pressed her free hand to Duke’s cheek, dragging him down so that she could press her forehead to his.

“Hang on, Duke, just- just _hang on_ ,” she said, doing _something_ that Nathan could feel a distant echo of, and Duke went slack, the worst of the movement beneath his skin subsiding. “Croatoan, he’s- he’s trying to take it _all_ , he’s- he’s going to tear him apart. He- he’s trying to take it from _me_ , I can’t-”

“You can,” Nathan said, the words rough and sticky-slow. “Stronger’n him.”

“Maybe Mara was, but I’m _not Mara_ ,” Audrey snapped, pain and panic making her sharp. “I don’t know how to do the things she could do!”

“Stronger’n Mara was,” Nathan slurred out. “Your mother saw that. She knew.”

“Nathan-”

“Always understood how to help,” he pressed. “You c’n do this. He needs you, Parker.”

“ _We_ ,” Duke corrected, the word breathless and broken. “Not... lookin’ so hot yourself, Nate.”

“Be fine,” Nathan said, though he wasn’t sure how true that was- he could feel his strength ebbing away, second by second. “Parker-”

“Don’t need... to do... what Mara could,” Duke interrupted. “Need to do... what _you_ can. Not... about her.”

“...Okay,” Audrey said, voice shaking, but the sharpness had retreated, desperate determination creeping into her voice. “Okay. I, I can do this. I can figure this out.”

“Faster’s... better,” Duke wheezed, the roiling beneath his skin _visible_ again, and Audrey rocked back on her heels, one hand still linked with Duke’s, other hand moving to hover just above his chest.

The world flickered. Nathan tried to ignore it, tried to track what was happening.

Audrey said _something_ , but he caught only fragmented sounds. Duke’s voice followed, insubstantial and incomplete. Nathan could still see the aether rippling under his skin, fighting to get loose.

It wasn’t working.

_Energy levels critical_.

The cool voice brushed beneath his thoughts, as though he hadn’t figured that one out for himself, and he felt himself drift after it, barely pulled back as the world dimmed further. There had to be _something_ , some way-

- _the Core, sitting on the desk, solid and inert._

_Duke, under Croatoan’s control, destroying the drawing, shredding it, turning the Core to so much dust._

_Dust, and blood, and aether climbing Duke’s skin like a living thing-_

-the images flashed, overlayed against the room, and Nathan thought, for a second, that he was coming unmoored, losing his grasp on _time_ entirely.

And then it clicked, and he forced himself to _focus_ , forced himself to _function_.

“Parker. _Core_. Croatoan... couldn’t take th’ aether... until it was _loose_.”

“Nathan, I can’t take all that aether out of him without tearing him apart _either_ ,” Audrey said, the words scraped raw and _desperate_ , and Nathan shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said. “Make _him_ the Core.”

“...What?” Audrey asked, but Nathan flickered again, the world cutting out in fits and starts, and when it solidified this time there was a high buzz in the back of his mind that left his ears ringing, and Duke was speaking in a harsh, desperate rasp.

“-don’t care, it’s worth the risk! We’re _losing him_ -”

“It might _kill you_ -”

“ _This_ is killing me! It’s a _chance_ , Audrey, might save one of us, so _do it_.”

Audrey looked _torn_ , looked _gutted_ by those words, but Nathan could see her gather herself once more, despite the weariness trembling through her. She leaned forward, and curled her hands around Duke’s long jaw, rested her forehead against his, and he sank into the contact, eyes falling closed. Audrey blinked rapidly, tears rolling down her cheeks, and she whispered something soft enough that Nathan didn’t catch it, but he _felt_ it in the shifting of the aether, in the sudden low thrum of power- just a trickle, just a tiny fraction of what it had been, but _there_.

He knew what the words were.

There was a single long moment of stillness; Audrey concentrating, Duke _waiting_.

Then it started; Duke’s breathing hitched, went ragged, and he squirmed, _struggled_ , and Audrey made an awful sound but kept going.

The trickle of power increased fractionally, but Nathan could feel that there was something _out of reach_ -

-Duke _screamed_ , a strangled, ragged thing, and Audrey _sobbed_ , but kept pushing. Her eyes had gone dark, the pupils wide enough to swallow the blue, and Nathan could feel the power she was directing _reach_. She pulled back, her hands dropping away from Duke’s skin, and Duke’s eyes opened, went wide and fixed as he panted raggedly.

“Nathan, _now_ ,” she snapped, and he didn’t need to ask, could feel the unformed Core looking for something to anchor to, and he reached out on instinct, pressed his hand to Duke’s cheek.

_Sensation_. Raw, overwhelming, _riotous_ , entirely too much with his nerves still newly-awakened and his thoughts tangled- warm skin and rough stubble and a terrible crawling flare of _power,_ electric-bright, rolling up his arm.

And immediately in the wake of that power, something _else_.

Feelings- fear, resignation, amusement, exhaustion, guilt, satisfaction- swept through him, too fast to hold on to. He could sense them slotting into place, like there had been a space _waiting_ for them, and he’d barely started to track _where_ when the next rush slammed through him.

_Every atom in his body_ hurt _, conflicting vibrations trying to rip him apart. He thought he screamed, wasn’t sure, couldn’t hear anything but the screaming white static, couldn’t feel anything but the pain and Audrey’s hands on his skin. His chest felt like a vice had closed around it, constricted and_ tearing _with every desperate breath._

_Audrey’s hands slipped away, his only point of contact with the world vanishing, and he struggled to open his eyes, needed to ground himself_ somehow _, but the world was blurred and insubstantial, shifting flows of light, he couldn’t_ focus _-_

_-stark lines, black and twisting, terrible and clear in his field of view. A touch, not Audrey’s but still welcome, and he always knew it would come down to this. It couldn’t end any other way._

_And at least he wasn’t alone._

The... _experience_ rolled over him, emotions sinking in like water into parched soil, filling cracks and settling into gaps. It was followed by _so much more_ \- more than _feeling_ , more than a single moment. It was- memory, experience, thought and impulse, and for an instant, he was submerged, completely unmoored in the sense of _someone else_.

He knew, distantly, that he should be terrified by that loss of self; that he _would_ have been, if it were any other _self_ pressing in on his own. But it wasn’t any other self, and for all their resistance, for all their display, they had always known each other better than anyone else.

And any fear there might have been was drowned out entirely under the rush of _confusion_ and _surprise_ and _utter, clutching relief_.

They had always been close; the sense of being _one_ settled in his core like a pleasant inevitability.

_They were so damn tired of being alone._

The thought was and was not his own, echoed through him inside and out. He could feel it, in all its terrible implications- experienced, in a dizzying rush, everything that meant. Knew, intimately and completely, the shattering bliss of _knowing_ , entirely, and _being known_.

And then it was gone with a staggering finality, everything that was _Duke_ shuttered behind barriers and everything that was _Nathan_ once more alone in his mind.

It left him spinning, gasping for air he didn’t need. The fluorescent lights seemed too bright, the buzz of electricity in the walls itching across his skin as he tried to normalize, as he tried to make sense of the absence of those experiences, those memories and impulses.

As he tried to remember how he’d managed for a lifetime with only his own existence to draw on, after a single eternal moment of being _both_.

Except he wasn’t alone, not entirely. He could feel- _more_ , the crystal’s cool voice whispering in the back of his thoughts- mostly information that was meaningless at present, though he _understood_ it. He could feel the burning edges of the unformed Core, echoing _wrong wrong wrong_ against his senses. He could feel-

- _Audrey_ , distant and thin but _there_ , and despite the shifting _wrongness_ of the Core, he pulled power recklessly to reach for her, to strengthen that fragile line. The power fought him, resisted his efforts, but he insisted, bore down with every bit of the tenacity and stubbornness he’d learned from his father, _pushed_ against the force resisting him until one of them had to yield or they’d both shatter.

Nathan didn’t yield.

The faint, tenuous connection solidified into something _solid_.

: _!?_ : Confusion-surprise-alarm echoed down the line, followed by a rush of _recognition-affection-relief_ \- it lasted a fraction of a second before being utterly swamped under _exhaustion-fear-grief_ , and Nathan blinked, yanked back into the proper flow of time by the weight of Audrey’s consciousness.

Nathan blinked as the world took form again, though he knew, this time, that his physical presence had not slipped. It could not have been even a full second, he knew that too; Duke was only just falling away from his touch, collapsing backward still and silent. It took Nathan a slow eternity- a fraction of a second- to _understand_ ; to recognize that the body before him had _failed_ , that Audrey knew it, could feel it, and was stricken by it.

Her emotions were choking, urgent and wild, a clamor of desperation that was costing her the marginal hold she’d been keeping over the start of the Core.

Audrey could not hold the Core as it was indefinitely; the Core could not _form_ as it was, was _wrong_ , and Nathan knew it.

“Nathan-”

“It won’t work like this,” he said, shaking his head. “It- the design. We need-” he tried to push the thoughts at her directly, because they tangled at his tongue, got lost under images and formulas and physics that he _knew_ without understanding, but Audrey pushed back, a ringing mental _blow_ even as she brought her hands up to block her ears.

: _Too much!_ :

: _I can find you what you need,_ : he sent, the thought underscored by _assurance_ and _certainty_ , and Audrey flickered back, surprise and _searching_ , and Nathan reached out, caught her hand as she dropped it back to her side.

“We can fix this. I have him, he’s- safe. I promise.”

“ _Go_ ,” Audrey said, accepting his reassurance out of sheer necessity, rolling _urgency_ at him- he could feel how much energy she was expending, knew how much holding the proto-Core together and protecting it, and herself, from the attack which hadn’t ceased was costing. They didn’t have long.

Of course, _long_ was a matter of perspective.

Nathan turned inward, into that terrible white space, felt himself come unmoored from the movement of _time_ around him- and blinked, momentarily stymied.

The space within was _unrecognizable_ , the grating blank whiteness and identical doors _gone_.

He was standing in the center of a comfortably appointed room; grey light poured in from a window that looked out over an expanse of pewter- an _ocean,_ waves rolling by under shifting clouds. The light _warmed_ as it spilled over the worn stone floor and the plush burgundy-and-gold rug, as it passed through the high, heavy rafters of pale golden wood. There was a _bar_ along the wall opposite the window, darker wood polished mirror smooth, and a pair of overstuffed chairs in chestnut leather looked _used_ and _comfortable_.

He knew this room; recognized it with a soft stirring of affection, though Nathan had never set foot in it before.

Duke had.

Nathan _understood_ , could feel out where Duke’s experiences and thoughts had tangled with his own, caught a faint echo of _you_ would _stick with a design you hated just because it was there_ , affectionate disdain laced through the words.

Duke hadn’t changed the space; he’d changed _Nathan_.

Nathan could not bring himself to feel anything but _comforted_ by the shift.

On one of the long walls, between the window and the bar, a set of doors clustered, but they were nothing like the blank and sterile doorways of before. The central door was taken directly from the police station, his office- the one he shared with Audrey, not the one he’d inherited from his father- complete with name placard. It was sturdy and solid and familiar, and the sight of it brought none of the _panic_ of before.

To the left of it, the kitchen door from the Gull, radiating warmth and welcome and _energy_ ; Duke, safe and still _vital_ , not just memories.

To the right, the door to the apartment upstairs, complete with a post anchored to the frame, a set of wind chimes hanging still and quiet and _waiting_.

Audrey, _his_ Audrey. The experiences collected when she’d stepped into the Barn.

He turned away from their doors; what he needed wasn’t there.

The opposite wall had a wide archway, and Nathan walked through it, followed the layout of the building with the casual ease he would have used walking through his own house- he passed through a spacious hallway, crossed a small courtyard, and stopped in front of a door that was _much different_ from the friendly, familiar doors inside.

The Maze was emblazoned onto rough stone, not quite obscuring the black handprint beneath it.

No one knew aether the way Mara did. Everything they’d been told suggested that Mara’s relationship with the aether was _special_ , was unique. If anyone could translate, it would be her.

Still, he felt the first flicker of _unease_ , of _doubt_ \- the energy pouring off the doorway tangible and overwhelming, even without touching it. It shook him, rattled the _certainty_ he’d picked up from the strange blending of thoughts. But he needed answers, and they were on the other side of that door.

He reached out, lay a hand against it, and the energy swamped him, was _foreign_ and _threatening_ in a way Duke’s had not been, _could not_ be. He jerked back, tried to twist his own sense of self away from the door, and it was harder than it should be, tendrils of _thought_ seeping forward, _impulses_ that turned his stomach, that burned where they dragged along his edges.

He could lose himself under that energy, he knew.

But no matter how slowly, time _was_ still passing outside. Audrey’s grip on the aether was still slipping, Croatoan was still bearing down on them, and Duke’s energy would not last _forever_ in the crystal, would eventually fade into nothing but a record.

And Nathan needed help.

He took a fraction of a moment to steady, to let the urgency of the situation coil around him like a shield. Audrey needed him. Duke needed him. They were his purpose; if he could hold on to that, he could hold on to _himself_.

He had to.

He reached out again, touched the door, and pushed back when the energy tried to sink in. He wished he’d had more time to test this out, to _understand_ how to work with what he now was- wished he knew how to access two doors at once, because he could’ve used the help. But he clung to the thought that Duke _was_ there, somewhere, reminded himself that Audrey _needed_ him to help her, and he forced his edges to stabilize. Forced the door to open, to _let him through_ , and as soon as he’d crossed the threshold, the energy shifted, swept _around him_ but not _through him_.

He could still feel her- roiling fury, curling disdain, poisonous certainty- but he knew what was _her_ and what was _him_ and he could control it. He concentrated on the images, on the problem, offered them up and _listened_. Felt the ripples of emotion in response- felt her _balk_ at the idea of helping him, felt her rage at realizing what his situation meant for her- but he pressed down, pushed the images again.

This, after all, was all that was left of Mara; if he failed, if the crystal was destroyed, Mara went with it.

Mara did not appreciate that thought, spun harsh and wild against his edges, but she could not deny the truth of it. Seething, resentment shuddering through her, she subsided, and he concentrated again, pushed the images at her.

_Engine-connection-whole-balance-_ images pushed back, concepts, laced through with petulance and petty, dishonest ill-wishes, mocking laughter underscored with _fear_. It was difficult, to filter out the feelings and concentrate on the explanation, on the twisting, infinite loop of power and tempo.

No static sphere, this time, no simple solid form. This Core had to move, had to live, had to _beat_.

_It will like that better, anyway_ , Mara thought. _It’s not meant to stay still_.

_But it will be stable?_ Nathan pressed, and Mara’s energy flickered in a bleak laugh.

_Nothing’s ever stable. That was her mistake. You can’t control entropy, you can only learn to work with it. A static system will always fail_.

_Will it be stable_ enough _,_ Nathan demanded, because he’d been _sure_ , he’d been sure it could work, but if he was _wrong_ -

-he needed it to work. He couldn’t afford to be wrong.

Mara laughed, flickered red along the tremulous dark shadows of his fear, but her response, when it came, had a note of grudging honesty.

_It will be stable enough._ The curling edge of the insult below the words- _clever thought, for a_ weed _-_ stayed unformed, but he heard it anyway.

He wasn’t sure it was _cleverness_ so much as _desperation_ , but he didn’t need to admit that. She believed it would work, could see the same logic to the thought that he had.

Unsettling as _that_ was.

Unsettling or not, he had what he needed; he pushed away from Mara’s energy, back through the doorway and into the pleasant little courtyard. It was a strange sensation, detaching, and he could feel the tendrils of her energy stretching after him as he let the stone door fall shut, but he pushed them away and tried to steady. Tried to shake off the clinging sense of bitterness, the residual traces of _resentment_ and _rage_.

He couldn’t afford to let Mara have a hold on him, not again-

-no, that wasn’t his. Mara had never had a hold over Nathan. He wasn’t the one she’d laid bare, taken apart just to see how he worked and rebuilt _wrong_.

He wasn’t the one she’d poisoned from the inside out.

No matter how much he could _feel it_ , now. No matter how real and visceral the experience was, for having shared it.

Duke was not going to be pleased to know that Nathan was using Mara’s knowledge to put him back together again.

...For that matter, neither was Audrey.

Not that any of them had much of a choice.

He’d make it up to them. This would _work_ , and they would succeed, and he’d have the rest of their lives to make it up to them. He’d have the rest of _time_ to make it up to them.

He turned outward once more, felt a shuddering, nauseating _jolt_ as time reasserted itself, as the courtyard dissolved and he reconnected with the space _outside_ , and Audrey was still waiting, precisely as she had been, drawing in the same shaky breath as when he’d turned away.

He reached out along the link, much more carefully than he had before. He felt her momentary disbelief- she had experienced barely a second- and a faint, rising sense of _hope_ at the renewed connection.

: _You’re not building the same thing._ : Audrey blinked at the words, and the pictures beneath them, and Nathan tried to manage the flow, tried to keep it steady and _not overwhelming_. : _Not like what Charlotte built. What she built, it was static, it was_ dead _. You’re building something alive. It’s not just a core, Parker, it’s a_ heart _._ :

“...What?” Audrey asked, visibly thrown, but he could _see_ the understanding starting, could see it in the sharp narrowing of her eyes, in the way she rallied. Could feel it, in the shifting vibration of the aether as it responded to her change in focus and the rush of _analysis-consideration-comprehension_ that filtered down the link.

“You can fix this, Parker. You can. Just- finish the Core. You’ve got a form to follow-” Nathan let his thoughts curl around the image, drew her thoughts along in his wake, “just work around it.” Nathan reached up to cradle her jaw, tilting her head up so that she met his eyes, and gave her a careful, entreating smile. “It’ll work. When it does, we get him back, and we end this.”

: _What if I can’t?_ : The question trembled down the link, doubt and uncertainty and it rippled through all three of them, echoing in harsh words and missed signs and lost chances, in absence and blindness and every way they’d failed before.

: _You can. You will._ : Nathan leaned forward, until his forehead was pressed against hers, felt her breath catch and her body shiver, and he smiled again. : _You are Audrey Parker, and there’s nothing you can’t do. Seen you pull off harder things than this._ :

It was a strange sensation, feeling her feel his emotions, _knowing_ the flow of his confidence to her certainty, and it settled warm and real in his chest.

Audrey closed her eyes and tangled herself in the link, wrapping around him and wrapping him around her- it wasn’t quite the same as _experiencing_ Duke, but the connection dug deep, anchored itself in every tender place. He felt her draw herself up one last time, felt her pull the image of what they _needed_ into her core.

Felt her reach for her connection to the aether, and saw, in her mind’s eye, how. Heard the echo of words pass between Audrey and Charlotte- “ _We need to focus on what we're feeling. On what we want." "And why we need to condense it down." "And what we'll lose if we don't. This place, these people. ...The ones we love. Each other," -_ and felt the sting of that loss fresh and cutting.

Saw what Audrey reached for, to find what she needed.

_Sun glinted off the water, making each wave glitter like citrine. The breeze was warm, mild, catching at her hair and pulling it into her eyes- she had no idea how Duke was managing, with his hair loose around his face the way it was. But he didn’t seem bothered, was grinning up at Nathan as he gestured with one of the long-handled cooking utensils he was using to prepare food over their (Haven PD authorized, and he’d complained for_ hours _about them making him actually fill out the paperwork) fire in the sand. Nathan was grinning back, his shoulders loose and relaxed, and the breeze wasn’t doing more than leave his hair just ruffled enough to look casual and enticing. It had been three whole days since they’d had a bad case, and they were taking the rare opportunity to just-_ be _, the three of them together, because the clock was still ticking and they didn’t understand how to stop it, but if she was going to disappear, she wanted_ this _. For however long she could have it._

The memory sank deep, and Nathan echoed it back, Duke’s teasing laugh and ribald jokes, the scent of salt and smoke and spices, the rolling purr of the ocean, and _Audrey_ , limned in gold by the long rays of the setting sun, sitting folded down around her knees while the breeze tugged at her hair, her laughter low and bright and beautiful.

The aether _moved_ , swirled and turned and stopped tearing at the flesh that held it. Nathan felt a terrible _shudder_ slam across their joined minds as something bleak and malevolent sought to rip it from their control, sought to shake their grip, and Audrey clutched Nathan’s thoughts closer, clung to that day. Nathan did his best to shield her, stretched himself out to absorb the next strike.

The poisonous doubts and searing anger rolled through him, and faded, dissipated like ripples spreading out over a pond; nothing Croatoan could throw at him would make him doubt Audrey, and he didn’t need to be _angry_.

Because he could feel the Core coming together, could feel the aether wrapping itself around Duke’s heart like a shield, weaving itself into something flexible and strong, could feel it trembling with the anticipation of being given a _purpose_.

They were going to win.

Audrey gave one last _tug_ , and the Core stabilized and started to _beat_ , steady and slow. It echoed through Nathan, the power it put off clean and smooth, exponentially better than the raw, combative aether had been. It _sang_ , no trace of the creeping _wrongness_ that he’d felt before.

Audrey collapsed against his side, trembling and exhausted and _triumphant_.

“Nathan, _Duke_ -” she said, and Nathan let his thoughts slide against hers.

: _On it_ ,: he said, and he turned inward once more, landed in the warm, grey-lit room with something like relief.

Like Mara’s door, the energy of Duke’s door reached out for him as he approached. Nathan didn’t bother to resist it, let it curl around his edges as he slid his hand along the familiar surface. He pulled the door open, and the contact was softer, _slower_ than the first time, and Nathan took the time to _enjoy_ it, to soften his own edges to invite Duke to fill that space.

Duke coiled through him like he had no intention of ever letting go again; Nathan could feel his displeasure at having been partitioned off in the wake of _connection_ , could feel the echo of _fear_ in him at the idea of separating _again_ , when he’d gotten it back.

_You won’t be alone again_. Nathan let the words roll through them both, anchored them in the _truth_ of that statement. Duke would be as much a part of the Barn as Nathan was, would be _bound_ as thoroughly as Nathan had chosen to be. The two of them _could not_ be alone- the Core had anchored on the crystal, and the crystal was fueled by the Core, neither would last without the other.

And they would be with Audrey, tied to her by purpose and choice.

Duke latched on to the thought of _purpose_ , sifted through that which was _Nathan_ until he understood what that _meant_ , and Nathan could feel something in Duke steady at what he found. He offered up the image of the beach, as Audrey remembered it, coaxed Duke along the thought that it had been that moment which Audrey had used to bind the aether. That it was _all of them_ , together, simply _being_ that had moved Audrey enough to control _that much_ power.

_We still have work to do._ And Duke wanted to see their work complete as much as Nathan did- wanted to make up for all the things caused by his presence, and his absence, wanted to earn some small measure of forgiveness for the sins that had been piled on his shoulders.

Nathan knew that it would be pointless to argue. Duke knew exactly how Nathan felt about Duke’s relative level of guilt.

They didn’t need to agree; they _understood_.

_Audrey’s waiting. She’s afraid for you_.

Duke sighed, and reluctantly drew himself apart, redefined himself as _one_ instead of _both_. Nathan still felt the sharp echo of _anxiety_ when he did, the cutting disappointment of losing that unity; he reminded himself, reminded them _both_ , that they were still _bound_. Duke wrapped himself in that reassurance, and solidified.

“Forever, huh?” he asked, leaning casually against one of the overstuffed chairs.

“That’s the plan,” Nathan agreed, with a shrug.

“...Yeah, okay.” Duke rolled out his shoulders, and lifted his chin. “Let’s get this done.” He paused, considered, and added, “And I am _not_ spending the rest of _time_ living in the police station.”

“...Fine.” It wasn’t an argument worth having, and Duke had a point. However urgent the need, however much the Barn was the solution to a problem, it was _also_ their future. It wasn’t unreasonable to plan for that.

Nathan extended a hand, and Duke took it, and Nathan turned himself _outward_.

Duke dragged in a ragged breath, jolted up from the floor like he’d been shocked, and Audrey made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and threw herself at him, dragging Nathan along with her. Duke staggered when she hit, and Nathan reached out to steady him, the three of them tangled up and leaning wildly, and Nathan could feel them both, inside and out.

Could feel _relief_ and _hope_ and _love_ , felt it echo and amplify and roll along the lines between them, leaving them all shaking.

“Let’s get this done,” Duke said, the words muffled against the top of Audrey’s head. “This town’s been Troubled long enough.”

“Where?” Audrey asked, and Nathan didn’t know if she’d picked up the thought from him, or from Duke, or if there was any real difference now at all.

“Home,” Duke said, something soft and edged in a different sort of hope layered in his voice. “Come home with me.”

“ _Home_ ,” Audrey repeated, and Nathan could feel hope and regret in equal parts, from both of them; knew that if they’d had the choice, it wouldn’t be the Rouge that they went back to, but the Gull- knew that there was a level of sorrow in each of them he would not have understood, before, at the loss of that place. There had been _power_ in that place, _anchoring_ \- it was the first home _Audrey_ had ever had, the first place she’d ever chosen for herself, and it had been a _future_ , to Duke, a chance at building something simple and good and _real_ to outlast him.

“We’ll rebuild,” Nathan said gently.

“We know,” Audrey said, squaring her shoulders and pulling back, enough to look at the both of them. “And the Rouge is a better idea, anyway. It’s made to travel, and _forever_ is a long time to stay still.”

“Wouldn’t mind a _little_ time to get bored,” Duke said, and Nathan leaned against his side, chuckled softly.

“Might have time to _settle_. Won’t have time for boredom.”

“...Yeah, we’ll see,” Duke said, but there was pleasure under the words. Duke stepped back, and Nathan could feel the flicker of _discomfort_ he felt, the idea that he didn’t quite know himself any longer, didn’t quite know what he was or how he worked.

They could work on that. They’d have time.

Somewhere in the shuffle, Duke had come up with the crystal; he unwound the chain from around his fingers, and moved to put it back around his neck, and paused. The crystal knew (and so Nathan knew, and so Duke knew) that with the Core _stable_ , Nathan’s range from both Core and crystal was now a matter of _miles_ rather than _inches_ , and Duke let his thoughts play along the sturdy, flexible line between them before he turned and slid the chain over Audrey’s head instead.

“Be able to find both of us,” Duke said quietly, as Audrey pulled her hair out of the way so that Duke could settle the chain against the skin of her neck.

“Nobody’s getting lost,” Nathan said firmly, but the thought was a good one.

“We should go,” Audrey said, and he could feel her reluctance to step back outside, to lose the still, insulated feeling that had enveloped them. But they still had work to do, and Croatoan was not beaten yet.

“Yeah.” Duke was just as reluctant, his hand lingering on Audrey’s shoulder as he eyed the door.

Nathan sent a flicker of understanding tinged with amused affection at both of them, and stepped toward the door.

It unlocked and swung open, the lights flickering uncertainly, and Nathan set his hand on the frame and directed a quick smile at the nearest camera.

“Thanks, Laverne. We’ll be back soon- take care of the place for us.”

The lights blinked, and Nathan stepped out of his office, Audrey and Duke following close behind.

***

“In retrospect, the police station wouldn’t have been so bad,” Duke panted, dropping down onto the deck and barely turning in time to catch Audrey as she tumbled; the dock had given way as she’d jumped, left her off-balance at the last moment. Nathan reached out to help Duke steady her, caught a glimpse of movement, and shoved them both _down_ , curling over them as one of the screaming silver _things_ swept through the space they’d been occupying. Claws raked along his back, bright burning lines of _pain_. Duke swore and dragged loose of the tangle of limbs to crash gracelessly against one of the deck chairs; he came up _shooting_ , and the _thing_ dropped into the water with an awful shriek.

“Just get the door open,” Nathan snapped, pulling Audrey back to her feet. He was a little amazed there were still guns on the Rouge; with the state of things in town, most places left sitting _empty_ had been fairly thoroughly looted.

Though he supposed it was likely that Dwight and the rest would’ve steered away from the Rouge, figuring Nathan would handle it.

Duke caught his eye, and tossed him the gun to turn and deal with the lock, and Nathan turned to shoot down a second silver harrier, and Audrey pulled a third out of the air with a glare and a clenched fist, a handful of aether spiralling down to sit passively in her other hand.

“Come on!” Duke called, the door clanging, and Nathan backed toward him, Audrey pressed against his side.

They ducked through the doorway, and Duke slammed it shut, threw the lock like it would mean anything.

“ _Do it_ ,” Audrey ordered, dropping her stolen aether into a vase, and grabbing Nathan’s hand, reaching out for Duke as well. Duke caught her hand, barely gave Nathan time to tuck the gun away before he had laced his fingers through Nathan’s and held on.

_Sound_ raged from outside, metal rending and stone snapping. Nathan ignored it; turned his attention inward.

_Defining new parameters._

The room he appeared in was the same, but the hallway beyond the archway was not; he could not help the snort of disbelief and amusement at the sight of a single white room, empty save for a mid-sized pedestal, the bright red button sitting atop it the only splash of color beyond the doorway.

He wasn’t sure if it was Duke’s influence, his own practicality, or the crystal’s programming trying to compensate for his way of processing. Whatever it was, he could live with it.

_Activation sequence prepared._ The crystal’s voice was steady, almost _prim_.

He crossed to the pedestal, and pressed the button.

_Activation sequence engaged._

The room shimmered, and Nathan felt the world hitch, felt his stomach bottom out as everything _shifted_. Beside him, Duke grunted in surprise, and Audrey tightened her grip on his hand hard enough to _hurt_ as their external space vanished into whiteness.

Then it steadied, and they were back in the comfortable room he’d started in, Nathan standing centered in front of his door with Duke slightly to his left and Audrey slightly to his right.

“Where-” Audrey started, frowning, and Nathan gave her a faint smile.

“Redecorated. Duke’s fault,” Nathan said, and Duke laughed, the sound edged in something just shy of hysteria.

“Did it _work_?”

“Think so,” Nathan said, tilting his chin to indicate the archway beyond, where the hallway had been replaced by the comfortable, _familiar_ interior of the Rouge. “Might take some getting used to. Things move around.”

“We built it, but did it _work_ ,” Audrey asked, looking around.

_Removal sequence in progress_ , the crystal offered, and the view of the shifting pewter ocean changed, stretched and distorted, until the entire town was spread out before them. The Fog was _gone_ , and the flickering, twisting building on Main Street that had started trying to _eat people_ who walked past was once more nothing but a charming storefront; a sweep of movement below the water in the harbor dissipated into nothing as the kraken faded out of existence and the flock of swirling silver harriers blinked out one by one. Aether was streaming toward a central point, somewhere over the water before it disappeared from their view.

“Where’s it going?” Audrey asked, and the view shifted, pulled back to include-

-a perfect copy of the Cape Rouge, floating just behind the original, and _glowing_ , aether streaming in through her hull. The image shifted again, went _bleak_ , an identical Cape Rouge glowing in the middle of a black lake, skeletal trees reaching for a putrid yellow sky, with aether streaming right back out to scatter in all directions.

_Removal sequence in progress_ , the crystal repeated, and it sounded ever so slightly _smug_.

“...It worked,” Audrey said, sounding like she couldn’t entirely believe it.

“It worked,” Nathan agreed, because he could.

“...What about Croatoan?” Audrey asked, fear in her voice.

_Removal sequence parameters include all non-native materials. Entity ‘Croatoan’ removed._

“...What about _us_?” Duke asked, sounding wary.

_Removal sequence parameters include all non-native materials. Construct ‘Cape Rouge’ will be removed._ There was a pause, and the crystal added, _Construct ‘Cape Rouge’ maintains capability for point-to-point dimensional drift._

“We get to go home again,” Audrey translated.

_Construct ‘Cape Rouge’ maintains capability for point-to-point dimensional drift. Location parameters ‘Home: Haven’ accessible._

“We get to go home again,” Audrey said, and she smiled, bright and brilliant. “We did it. We _won_.”

“Ain’t that a kick,” Duke commented, with a slow smile of his own. “Pretty sure this calls for celebration. Think this thing copied my liquor cabinet?”

_All physical parameters of object ‘Cape Rouge’ intact_ , the crystal said, and Audrey laughed as Duke rolled his eyes at the ceiling, and Nathan was pretty sure that whatever their location happened to be, they were already _home_.

***

Rebuilding was not a simple process, but Haven was nothing if not familiar with the process of picking itself up, shaking itself off, and _moving forward_.

“You ready?” Duke asked, feet crunching on gravel as he approached the Bronco; Nathan straightened up and closed the rear gate, reaching out to him with a smile. Duke grinned back, stepped forward into his touch, radiating _contentment_ down the line between them as Nathan folded him into a hug.

“Just about. Seen Audrey?” Nathan asked, not that he _technically_ needed to. He knew as well as Duke did exactly where she was and what she was doing.

“She’s on her way,” Duke answered, as if they didn’t both know. He pulled back, and looked Nathan over critically. “ _You_ got too much sun today, didn’t you.”

“Was helpin’ unload the last of the government supplies,” Nathan said, shrugging. “Dwight wanted a hand.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you don’t burn anymore anyway,” Duke said, rolling his eyes. “Bastard.”

“You _never_ burned,” Nathan objected.

“Yeah, but I have to work for it,” Duke said, as if that made any sense at all. “How’s the north end coming along?”

“Better,” Nathan said. “Gonna have the last few buildings done in a week or two. How’s the Gull progressing?”

“Same as it was yesterday. Bill keeps telling me I’m being too picky, that it doesn’t have to be exact. He’s probably right, but...”

“But you want it to be _right_.” Nathan understood the desire to put things back as precisely as possible. “Still... Could be right means a little different.”

“Yeah, maybe. Saw Tracy and James today, they said to say hello- and Meg says she’s going to bring by a casserole tomorrow.”

“And you very politely thanked her and told her how much we’d appreciate that?” Nathan asked, wry, and Duke sighed.

“Yes. It’s like everyone in town forgot that _I owned a restaurant_. I can cook, I can cook _for us_.”

“They’re grateful,” Nathan said. “They’re being neighborly. Beattie says you owe her a week’s babysitting, by the way, said you’d know why.”

“She _cheats_ , that’s why,” Duke said, but there was affection in the words. “Hope you don’t mind helping.”

“Think you can find a way to make it up to me,” Nathan said, as though the idea didn’t delight him.

“Make what up to you?” Audrey asked, walking up with a soft-sided cooler slung over one shoulder. “You guys ready?”

“Just waiting for you,” Duke said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “And Beattie cheated me on a bet and now I owe her a week of kid wrangling. Nathan is extorting favors in exchange for his help.”

“Uh huh,” Audrey said, rising onto her toes to take a more serious kiss from Duke. “You need to stop making bets with that woman, she’s clever.” She turned, and pulled Nathan into a kiss as well, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close for an extra moment. “And _you_ , make sure you get something good.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Duke protested, laughing, and Nathan grinned and kissed her again.

“‘Course I will. You got everything?”

“One picnic dinner, beach-ready,” Audrey acknowledged, patting the cooler. She grinned, and handed the cooler off to Nathan. “Let’s go, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, I got caught up helping Laverne sort out our offices. She’s bringing us-”

“Please say pie,” Duke interjected, looking hopeful.

“Pie,” Audrey confirmed. “Tomorrow. She promised blueberry and key lime.”

“Fantastic. I swear, when we get the restaurant open again, you have to find a new dispatcher, I am stealing that woman for my kitchen.”

“You just try,” Nathan said, laughing. He gave Audrey a gentle push toward the truck, and leaned in to steal a kiss of his own from Duke as he slipped around him to get to the passenger side. “Laverne won’t abandon her post.”

“Her talents are being wasted,” Duke griped playfully, taking the cooler from Nathan as he passed.

“Less teasing, more driving,” Audrey called, climbing into the truck. “I want dinner!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Duke replied, laughing, and took his seat.

Nathan followed Audrey in, settling into his seat, Audrey pressed against his side with Duke stretched out on the bench beside her, and felt the contentment rolling off of both of them, the peace and satisfaction and _love_.

Nathan let it settle, let himself enjoy it.

They’d earned it.


End file.
